


Hard To Say

by bewaretheboojum



Series: Hard Season [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Cute Dogs, Fight Scenes, M/M, Makeouts, Violence, cussin', more than makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-09-21 17:07:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17047193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bewaretheboojum/pseuds/bewaretheboojum
Summary: AU - Takes place a few months after Hard Pass. Red's been giving Jason the cold shoulder and Jason's missing Red. Red gets spooked and goes to Jay for help on a big case. Detectiving, bitching about baseball, and petting cute dogs ensues.





	1. Hard to Say - Part One

Jason wondered, not for the first time, how his partner had managed to find what seemed to be the one dive bar in Gotham City that still let people smoke cigarettes indoors. He was almost a hundred percent sure that it was illegal everywhere in Gotham City at this point. Then again, all the cops came to this dive after their shift to have a beer and a smoke before stumbling home, so it wasn’t like the place was going to get busted by any Gotham government agency anytime soon.

Tragically.

Jason could do without ever coming here ever again, but communing with the rest of the grunts on the force was pretty much required to get anything done in the GCPD.

Especially if you wanted that thing done with something approaching efficiency or with minimal bitching. Jason was a man who did not appreciate Baby Boomer bitch sessions.

Fighting down the urge to cough when his partner, Clint, lit up a fresh cigarette, Jason traipsed down the stairs to the entrance of the dingy basement bar close on Clint’s heels.

As they made their way up to the bar Clint nodded his head and made a small gesture with his left hand to get the bartender's attention.

“Hey,” Clint called, trying to be heard over the low roar and clatter of conversation in the narrow, poorly insulated space, “gimme a shot and two lagers.”

The bartender nodded and moved to get the glasses as Clint turned his head to look back over his shoulder at Jason.

“You want anything, New Guy? Need a shot or two?” he asked, grinning slyly.

“Make that 3 lagers,” Jason said loud enough for the bartender to hear as he eyed the bar for a spot with two open stools. Jason was half hoping he wouldn’t find any so he could make an excuse to cut out of their post shift ritual.

“And you’re paying,” he added, giving Clint a narrow eyed glance.

Jason had been working with Clint for about three years now. Three long, painful, pungent years that tested Jason’s patience nearly every minute.

Ever since Jason had made detective, Clint had been Jason’s deeply annoying but constant companion. The man still called him ‘New Guy,’ even after all this time. About four other people on the force had been named Detective after Jason.

Jason assumed Clint thought the nickname was funny, but Jason never could figure out why. Baby Boomer humor, probably...

Clint was a heavy set white guy on the wrong side of 55. He drank too much, smoked too much, slept too little and didn’t believe in the gym or vegetables.

The guy wasn’t a bad detective, as far as that went in Gotham City, but he wasn’t a great one either. He only took bribes for minor things, never shook down the little guys and was generally lazy enough not to be a bother to most people. In Gotham City, where corruption and brutality were commonplace, that made for a pretty decent cop.

Clint and Jason managed ok. They weren’t close, they weren’t even actually friendly. But Clint never asked where Jason got really got his intel on those hard to solve cases they always seemed to pull and Jason never acted on his fantasies of drowning the man in the big fountain in the center of Gotham City Square.

Together (with some help from a little bird) Jason and Clint quietly had one of the highest close rates in their department, so neither wanted to rock the boat too much. No matter how tempting that fountain looked sometimes.

Clint made some lame complaints about paying for Jason’s beer, but Jay ignored him as he settled down to a spot at the end of bar, furthest from the door. Clint slid down next to him with a grunting sigh as he watched the bartender eagerly.

It was late Fall in Gotham and gusts of chilled night air wooshed in after every new cop stumbled down to the basement bar. Jason was wearing his leather jacket and a knitted scarf to keep out the cold, but the biting wind seemed to cut through the fabric with ease.

The bartender was quick with Clint’s order. Within just a few moments, he slid a an almost overflowing shot glass and two bubbly pints in front of the heavyset man. Clearly the bartender had been on the receiving end of Clint’s temper when Clint had to wait longer than he thought was strictly reasonable for his drink.

Jason could smell the bite of Jameson as Clint tossed back his shot and chased it with a long pull from one of his pint glasses.

“Ahhhhhhh, good to be off the clock. Finally.” Clint sighed, slouching down on his bar stool.

Jason resisted the urge to point out that Clint had spent most of his day checking in on his Fantasy Football team instead of actually working their cases. Jason had come to hate Fantasy Football. If he ever did toss Clint into that fountain, it would have something to do with a Fantasy Football lecture that went on far, far too long.

Clint was about three minutes into what sounded like it would be an hour long diatribe about why the quarterback for the Bludhaven Brawlers was having such a bad season. At that point, Jason felt getting himself a beer sooner rather than later was necessary for both his and Clint’s continued survival.

Jason flagged down the other bartender working that night, she was a pretty dark haired girl who was probably only a few years younger than Jason. Jason tapped one of Clint’s pint glasses to indicate his order and mouthed the word ‘please.’ He tried to make his eyes convey his deep and sincere need for a drink in that moment. She smiled at him and it was only another minute or so before she slid Jason’s beer in front of him with a friendly nod.

“Sorry for the wait, hon,” she said and smiled. “Can I start a tab for you?”

Jason smiled back.

“My good friend Clint is taking care of me,” he said, pointing his thumb in the direction of his partner. Clint had been leering at the poor woman’s cleavage in a way that was meant to be offensively obvious, but Jason’s comment startled him enough to distract his attention.

Clint was spluttering a denial, insisting he wouldn’t pay for Jason’s beer, when the bartender interrupted him.

“You know what, hon? On the house,” she said, giving Clint some serious side-eye.

“No, you don’t have to do that—“ Jason began, but she waved him off.

“Seems like you need it,” she said, nodding at Clint. She gave Jason a wink before she walked back over to take care of other customers trying to flag her down.

“Ohhhh, I think she likes yoooou,” Clint cooed in a saccharine high pitched voice that made the image of that fountain pop up in Jason's head again.

Jason idly wondered how many days he’d be suspended if he shoved Clint off the stool. Maybe he could convince Montoya the man had fallen off while he was drunk...

“Could be,” Jason agreed as mildly as he could manage. “Or maybe she’s just a decent human being with a sense mercy.”

“Ha! You’re probably right. I’ve never met a guy with a love life as pathetic as yours, New Guy. When’s the last time you got any real action?”

It was actually a pretty good question. Jason found himself suddenly flashing back to the hot press of Red Robin’s mouth against his that night in his apartment. The warm gust of Red’s breath against his cheek. The lean, hard body arched against his own as Red had...

Jason shook his head, trying to clear the memory and took a long pull on his drink.

It had been almost three months since Jason had kissed Red Robin in his bedroom. The Case File Care Packages had still been appearing with regularity, but all other communications had been cut off. No more phone calls, no more late night visits, no more mysterious text messages from unknown numbers. Just those fucking unlabeled yellow envelopes. The damn things would show up everywhere. They would be in his car, on his coffee table, even in his desk drawer at work.

The only difference now was that they came with typewritten notes giving Jason all the details Red used to give him in those brief phone calls or quick in-person chats. Jason hated those notes. They were so… impersonal.

The packages made it obvious Jason knew that Red was still keeping tabs on him like he had been. Which was nice.

Aside from the care packages, Jason hadn’t seen a trace of Red in months. Not so much of a flap of a cape or a mysterious blur on pulled security footage. He knew the guy was monitoring him somehow but Jason still hadn’t been able to figure out how.

Red was good at what he did.

Very good.

Jason had no idea how to reach out to Red on his own. None of the numbers Red had used to contact Jason in the past were connected. They all either resulted in the annoying three toned beep or with someone answering the phone in a language Jason couldn’t even begin to identify. Their usual meeting spots were always empty when Jason drove by and the weirdos walking too close behind Jason on dark streets were all the usual kind of weirdos not the caped kind.

Jason wasn’t sure if Red intended this whole thing to highlight their unequal power dynamic or if it was just a byproduct of the guy studiously ignoring him. Either way, Jay was not into the outcome.

It really sucked.

Taking another long pull on his pint glass, Jason tried to drown out Clint’s prattling on about all of the women his partner had cheated on his wife with in the past few years. It wasn’t uplifting listening.

Frankly, Jason was surprised Mrs. Clint hadn’t smothered the man in his sleep a decade ago. No jury in the world, let alone Gotham City, would convict the poor woman.

Just as Jason was about to flag down the pretty bartender for another beer, his phone buzzed with a call from an unknown number. Despite himself, Jason’s stomach did a little leap. Red’s calls always came through on an unknown number and while the guy hadn’t called him for months, hope springs eternal.

In deeply sadistic ways sometimes, but still...

Waving at Clint to indicate he needed to take the call, Jason stepped outside into the stairwell of the bar and tapped the ‘answer’ button on his phone. He cupped his hand around the mouthpiece, trying to shield it from the chilly wind that gusted down into the stairwell.

“This is Todd,” he said, working to keep his voice steady and even. Trying not to sound too hopeful.

“I’m going to text you an address. I need you to be there immediately.”

It was Red.

Jason let out a breath and closed his eyes, trying not to let excitement and relief distract him.

“So you’re finally talking to me again? Don’t you think-“

Red cut Jason off.

“The address is in your texts. Send me your ETA and come immediately. Don’t use your lights or siren. Come in an unmarked car, but…” Red hesitated for a significant moment before finishing his sentence. “Bring your gun.”

It was then that Jason noticed the tension in Red’s voice. His tone was pitched low and almost biting but it wasn’t the fake voice he used when playing up the Red Robin role. It was… different.

“Are you ok?”

“Just leave. Now.” Red said firmly and disconnected the call.

*****

The drive to the address Red sent over was a blur. The GPS lead Jason to a section of Gotham populated mostly by warehouses. It was just a few blocks out from the docks and the area was poorly lit and essentially deserted. Not even any of Gotham City’s resident population was skittering around. When Jason pulled up to the warehouse that belonged to the address Red had sent, he threw his car into park with a jolt.

Jason could smell the salty bite of the nearby bay in the cold wind that whipped past him when he climbed out of his vehicle. He tucked his keys into the pocket of this leather coat and let his hand rest gently on the holster to his gun as took in the area.

The place was dark, there were no street lights anywhere around and this area was too far from any homes or stores to have any nascent illumination. Jason kept his hand near the butt of his gun while he looked around the deserted area for Red.

The soft sound of a light footfall on the cold concrete behind him made Jason spin around in surprise. Jason saw Red step out of the shadows and approach Jason with a slight wave of his hand. Called to Jason in an unusually soft, almost tentative, tone of voice.

“Detective?”

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me. Are you ok, man? You sounded spooked on the phone.”

“‘Spooked’ does not begin to cover it…” Red said hollowly.

“What happened?” Jason asked, reaching a hand out to Red. Red pulled up short, just out of reach of Jason’s fingers. It was too dark to get a proper read on Red’s face, not that his face ever gave much away anyway…

He looked pale even in the darkness of the warehouse lot. His lips were pressed thinly together and his shoulders were hunched under his cape in a way that looked almost defensive. His hands were hidden from Jason’s sight under the drape of his long cape, but Jason suspected he was holding a weapon of some kind under the thick layer of fabric.

“Just… follow me.” Red said gesturing with his still hunched shoulder toward the warehouse.

Red gestured for Jason to follow him across the lot in front of the building and through the warehouse doors. He flicked on a flashlight that only emitted a low beam of dark red light. It didn’t illuminate much, just offered enough light that Jason could about three feet in front of him now.

The lock on the doors to the warehouse looked like a thick, sturdy padlock. The kind of padlock Jason had seen used to keep storage sheds locked shut. The U at the top was about an inch thick and the whole thing was coated in black plastic to protect it from the weather and the salt that still lingered in the air this close to the bay. Jason also noted that it was popped open on the latch, not broken or busted. So it had either been unlocked with a key or picked by someone.

It was even money which with mister short, pale and mysterious involved...

The whole area inside of the warehouse was just as cold as it was outside. The wind still drafted through the thin walls. It was all one large room, that smelled damp and metallic, the cement floor was crisscrossed with orange and black extension cords. There were a few bare lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling, but none of them were lit. A low table was off in one corner with a single folding chair next to it. Seven metal oil drums neatly lined one wall, they were dented and large swatches of rust had broken through the paint on almost all of them.

“What the hell is this that you’re trying to show me right me, right now?” Jason asked, looking around. “And do you have a decent flashlight that throws some actual light?”

“I don’t want anyone to know we’re here. Yet.”

“Ok, and—“

Red cut Jason off with a nod to the table.

“Over… over here,” Red said, leading Jason over to the corner with the crappy lopsided table.

It was a cheap folding table made of soggy particle board, it was slightly lopsided and smelled a little like mold. There was a dark green and black folder sitting on the sagging table top, bloated from the large amount of materials stored inside.

The chair next to the table had a black hooded jacket hanging off the back. The jacket had a few dirt stains across one shoulder. There was a push broom and a bucket with some cleaning supplies inside, as well as a tool box and a duffle bag pushed off to one side of the corner.

Reaching into a pocket in his jacket, Jason pulled out a pair of latex gloves and snapped them on. Red gestured to the file folder with one hand, looking stiff and hesitant, almost as if he was unwilling to touch the folder himself.

Jason tossed Red an inquisitive look before turning back to the folder. Opening it gingerly, he fished out one of the items that was inside. It was a photograph. Jason examined it quickly and then pulled another one out of the file folder.

Then Jason pulled out another photo, and another, and another. Jason lined up 5 photos on the table in front of them, squinting at them in the low light.

They were all pictures of…

They were pictures of a man, young and slender. He had dark hair and blue eyes. There was no stubble on his cheeks and his skin looked pale.

Very, very pale.

Paler than Red, even.

Too pale.

Abruptly pulling the flashlight from Red’s hand, Jason focused it in close on the pictures and leaned in to look at them more carefully.

“This thing is full of Polaroids of a dead guy?” Jason asked.

“It looks to me like several different dead guys. And I think it’s a Fuji.”

“A what?” Jason asked, spinning around to look back at Red.

“I think there are pictures of more than one dead guy—“ Red repeated patiently before Jason cut him off again.

“No, what the fuck’s a Fuji?”

“It is a type of camera that is not, in fact, a Polaroid.”

“Is it here?”

“I didn’t see it. But I stopped snooping around after I realized what was in the pictures.”

“Is the dead guy here?”

“Again, ‘guys’, I think. And yeah. I’d guess they’re here.”

Jason looked around the sparse warehouse. It was not exactly full of fun secret hiding places perfect for concealing dead, dismembered bodies of fully grown men.

“Where?” he asked, half to himself, still looking around the place.

Red nodded in the direction of the oil drums that were lined up along the far wall and all of the sudden the pieces slipped into place for Jason.

He felt his stomach fall out as the realization hit him.

“Did you open any of them?” Jason asked, suddenly feeling a little queasy as he nodded toward the drums.

“Fuck, no.” Red said, with more feeling than Jason thought he had ever heard from him before. Jason also wasn’t totally sure if he had ever heard the man swear before.

“When did you find this place?” Jason asked, turning back to Red.

“Literally five minutes before I called you.”

“How did you find it?”

“That’s a longer story.”

“I have time,” Jason said grimly, turning to fully face Red and crossing his arms over his chest.

“No, you really don’t. You need to call for backup in case he shows up here, again. Or, more importantly, in case he doesn’t.”

“My boss is going to want answers from you about this place when she gets here—“

Red shook his head and cut Jason off with a sharp downward wave of a hand.

“I won’t be here when she gets here,” Red said firmly.

“What the fuck? What am I gonna say about how I found this place?”

“Anonymous tip.” Red replied flatly.

“Are you fucking kidding me—“

“I’m not,” Red said, starting back for the warehouse door. “And I’m leaving. I’ll find you later. We’ll talk then.”

Jason was trying to splutter a somewhat coherent response as he followed Red back through the warehouse door and was not really succeeding. When they were back outside in the cool night air Jason watched as Red took a deep breath, as if trying to separate himself from what they had left inside.

Jason wondered how bad the other pictures in the file folders were. The ones he hadn’t looked at.

“Detective,” Red said, cutting into Jason’s thoughts. “I didn’t take a lot of time looking at the photos, but I saw enough. I think I saw at least 4 distinct sets of— I’m just saying, this isn’t— This could be bad—“

Jason heard Red’s voice crack painfully as he tried to explain. The guy’s face was tight and as grim as Jason had ever seen it.

“This could be very bad.” Red repeated and swallowed hard before he shook his head and looked off to one side, trying deliberately not to look Jason in the eye. “I’d suggest starting with an immediate call to Detective Montoya. Make sure the force is on high alert for this. Maybe your liaison can get in touch with the press. People need to know about this. ”

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” Jason said wryly. “Are you ok?”

Red reached for the helmet stashed on the back of his bike as he thought about his answer. He still didn’t meet Jason’s eyes as he pulled the helmet down over his head.

“I’m— I’ll be fine. Let’s just focus on figuring this out right now, ok?”

Shaking himself, almost like a dog, Jason made himself flip back into Cop Mode.

“If I call the number you texted me on, will you answer?” he asked Red.

The other man tilted his head back, looking up into the cloudy Gotham City sky for a moment before answering Jason.

“Hard to say.” Red replied “I will be in touch, though. I promise.”

Jason watched Red take off on his motorcycle as Jason fished his phone from his pocket and dialed Montoya, trying desperately to come up with something reasonable he could tell her. He had a feeling she wasn’t going to buy the “Anonymous tip” story.

*****

“And you said you found this place because of an ‘anonymous tip’?” Montoya asked, skeptically. She had one eyebrow raised as she looked Jason over in disbelief.

Jason had only made the call to the station about half an hour before but the warehouse was already bustling all around them. It was now well lit and full voices and the clatter of equipment. Crime scene techs, beat cops and another set of detectives were all milling about, taking pictures and notes and swearing up a storm.

Clint wasn’t there, he’d been too deep into the Jameson to make it in when Jason made the call. That was one small mercy at least. Jason wasn’t sure how he would have handled both Montoya and Clint interrogating him about his “anonymous tip.”

Jason sighed and shook his head. There was no way he would be able to keep this up for long.

“Can we just… can we maybe talk outside? Take a walk?” he suggested lamely.

“Oooooh sure,” Montoya said agreeably. “The warehouse district is so nice this time of year. Not dark and frigid at all.”

Jason grimaced at her sarcasm, but he followed her out the warehouse and down past the crime scene tape. The beat cops eyed them cautiously as they walked past the flashing glow of the lights circling the tops of the police cars.

They managed to walk a full two blocks from the warehouse before Montoya started in again.

“I’m guessing this is Bat-related.”

“Got it in one. You should be a detective.”

“I’m surprised he gave up the scene. I’d have thought he would have waited. Set up a trap or something.”

“It wasn’t Batman. It was Red Robin. Sometimes he… Sometimes he helps me out.”

“Mmmmm, yeah. That makes more sense than Batman giving you this scoop. Red Robin always seemed much more cautious than the big guy.”

“Yeah, cautious is generally how I’d describe his approach to anything having to do with me,” Jason said wryly. “But he was different this time. This time he got in touch with me about this right away. He seemed down right spooked.”

“Hmmmm, his first serial case, maybe?”

“I doubt it,” Jason said wryly as they took a left at a corner and rounded another group of warehouses. “This is Gotham, after all. Also, the guy regularly tangles with the Joker.”

“Fair point,” Montoya conceded, kicking a stray rock that was in front of her boot, “How’d he let you know what he found?”

“Gave me a quick call, asked me to meet him at the address he texted. Told me to hurry. Not to run the lights. He was even waiting outside when I got there, like he didn’t want to be in the warehouse alone. He wouldn’t touch anything and was pretty eager to leave as soon I got there.”

“He tell you how he found the place?”

“Nah, just showed me what he found and said he’d explain later. I think he wanted cops on the scene as soon as possible in case the guy came back or something.”

“Interesting…”

“Unusual. Over the past few months, when he’s fed me info, usually everything is tied up in a neat little bow. All the documents and evidence laid out. Instructions on how to get authorization for search warrants and possible locations on where to pick up the perp. Clearly stuff he spent weeks on, if not months. This? This is different.”

“You don’t think he spent weeks tracking this guy?”

“He wouldn’t have been so spooked if he had been. When I asked him when he found the place, he said just a few minutes before he texted me.”

“Why call you and not Batman?” Montoya mused.

“I get the impression they don’t do many team ups these days.”

Montoya nodded and looked pensive.

“You think he’ll be in touch?”

Jason sighed and thought about how to answer. Four months ago he would have been much more sure about how Red would react, but now…

Jason had spent the last few months wondering how well he really knew the man. He hadn’t liked any of the conclusions he had come to. But tonight, they slipped back into an old dynamic that felt familiar to Jason despite Red’s unusual level of emotion.

“Normally, I’d say I don’t know. He’s been distant with me lately, too. Not a lot of in-person contact. I asked him if I could text him back on the number he was using and he said I could try. But I’m thinking he’ll want to know what’s up sooner rather than later. I’m guessing he’ll call or text to see how things are going.”

“Mmmm, I doubt he’ll make contact,” Montoya said. “I’m guessing he’ll hack into the GCPD computers and find out on his own. He always seemed like more of a doer than a talker.”

Unbidden, Jason’s mind flashed back on that night in his apartment. The lilting smile on Red’s face as they flirted and teased, the soft gasp of surprise when Jason pulled him into a kiss. The hot press of his mouth against Jason’s own, Red’s lips, his tongue, speaking their own sort of language…

Jason swallowed around a suddenly dry mouth as he nodded in agreement with Montoya, trying hard not to think about Red being ‘a doer.’

“You might be right,” Jason rasped.

“Do you think he just stumbled on the place by accident?” Montoya asked, pausing to look up at Gotham’s dark, cloudy sky.

“I don’t think so,” Jason said, still struggling a little to focus. “I doubt he does much of anything by accident. I think he was looking for something but what he found wasn’t what he expected.”

Montoya nodded thoughtfully then abruptly shivered.

“Alright, fuck this. I’m cold. Let’s head back. We’ll put it down as an anonymous tip and hopefully the little bastard will get back in touch with you with some answers that help us solve this thing, sooner rather than later.”

“Hopefully,” Jason agreed and they rounded back towards the flash of police lights. “I’m worried he has a little to go on here as we do…”

Jason watched worriedly as the lights alternately illuminated the blocks of empty street around them with blue and red, wondering how many cops drove past this place on a daily basis with no idea of what had been inside.

“The techs are gonna be a little while longer. Why don’t you head home? Get some sleep. Be in the office at 8 tomorrow so we can do a briefing at 8:30?” Montoya suggested.

Jason nodded in agreement. Sleep sounded amazing right about then. Jason wanted a shower, a beer and six hours of sleep to organize this thoughts.

“Alright, boss. Call me if anything changes. If not, I’ll see you in the morning.”

As Montoya headed back into the warehouse, Jason gave a wave to the beat cops and slouched back into his car, suddenly feeling more exhausted than he had ever been in his life.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason gets a late night visitor.

It took three tries before Jason managed to open the lock on the door of his apartment. Too tired to even swear at the stupid thing, Jason stumbled inside. The minute the door shut behind him, Jason pulled off his coat and shirt and tossed them to the floor of his entrance way. He was halfway to kicking off his jeans when a voice startled the shit out of him. 

“Woah, slow down there, Detective.”

All he could do was look up, surprised, jeans down around his thighs. Red’s head popped up over the back of his sofa, looking a little amused.

“What the— What the fuck?” Jason stammered as he struggled to pull his jeans back up. He flicked on a light with an uncoordinated slap of his hand.

Jason’s sparse living room lit up and Red blinked at him, tilting his head away from the light. Suddenly, with Red in the space, Jason’s overstuffed sofa, mismatched arm chair, lopsided coffee table and banged up TV seemed… a little lame. 

He’d lived there for almost 2 years and Jason didn’t even have pictures on his walls. He had a small snapshot of him and his mom on her last birthday but that was just about the only thing with any personal value Jason had in the place. It made having Red suddenly sitting on his couch seem weirdly even more personal than having the guy in his bedroom a few months before.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you.” Red sounded amused, still blinking through the bright light. 

As Red propped himself up to get a better look at Jason over the back of the couch, Jason realized Red wasn’t wearing his uniform. He wasn’t wearing a mask either. 

That was a first. 

Red looked…

Red looked normal. Human. Smaller than he usually did. Jason felt an odd pressure in his chest as he took in Red.

Bright blue eyes looked at Jason from under a fall of damp, dark hair. Red was wearing a dark green T-shirt that looked threadbare and worn. He had a dark blue hoodie pulled on over it a thin,grey woolen scarf wrapped around his neck. Jason could tell his cheeks were a little flushed, possibly from sleep?

On Jason’s sofa?

“What the fuck?” Jason repeated as he stumbled further into his living room, still trying to catch his exhausted brain up.

“How did it go at the scene?” Red asked, suddenly more serious and turning straight to business.

Jason shook himself like a dog and walked over to the couch, looking down at Red.

Red had Jason’s throw blanket wrapped around his long, slender legs. A red reusable water bottle was sitting on the floor next to the couch. The couch pillows were all piled up on the same side, where Red’s head must have rested as he...

“Were you sleeping on my couch?” Jason asked around a dry mouth.

“I tried, but this blanket is so ugly I was worried I’d get nightmares.” Red said, gesturing to Jason’s throw.

“It’s plaid.” Jason said defensively.

“Exactly.”

“Plaid is cool.”

“Whoever told you that lied to you.”

“It’s fuzzy…” Jason ventured, lamely. He walked around the back of the couch to sit down heavily on it next to Red. Red moved his legs to make room in the space next to him.

“I will give you that,” Red conceded, running long, thin fingers over the plush of the blanket as he offered Jason a corner to slip under. “It is fuzzy. So what happened at the scene?”

Jason tilted his head to one side as he considered how to answer.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he finally heard himself say, clearly not thinking through his words before speaking.

Jason’s mother always said that was a special skill of his.

Red raised an eyebrow at him cautiously.

“Come again?”

“I’ll tell you about the scene if you tell me how you found the place.”

“You know I could just leave now and look everything up in the GCPD database tomorrow.”

Jason twisted his mouth, wryly.

“Montoya said you’d do that. But I don’t think you have the patience to wait for everything to be uploaded.”

Red sighed and shook his head.

“Alright, but you first.”

Jason nodded and took a deep breath as he tried to figure out where to start.

“Hard to say how many bodies. The crime scene techs said the drums were filled with something caustic to break the tissue down—“

Red made a low sound in the back of his throat and Jason looked over at him. Red just shook his head.

“Just considering how deeply grateful I am that I decided not to try and open those things…”

“It smelled real bad when they popped one open.” Jason said, grimacing at the memory. Smelled worse than Clint after St Patty’s day...

Red made a sort of guttural that sounded a little like, “Ughhh.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I said, too.” 

“How about the pictures. Were there prints on them?”

“Yeah, but we didn’t get a hit on the prints. We’re running DNA as we speak, but if we don’t have prints...”

“Hmmmm… Then he’s probably just not in the system.” Red thought quietly for a moment before speaking again. “How many people were in the pictures? Could you tell?”

“Again, it’s hard to say. They looked a lot alike so he clearly has a type. Not all the pictures had a head soooo…”

“Yeah,” Red agreed grimly. “That does make it challenge.”

They both got quiet for a few minutes. Jason wasn’t sure what to say next and Red was looking dark and mysterious. 

Again. 

Jason wondered how mysterious Red looked while he was sleeping on Jay’s sofa. Probably not mysterious at all. Probably he just looked—

Jason’s train of thought was mercifully interrupted when Red started in again.

“It was a tidy set up. Planned, well supplied. The area was clearly chosen for a reason. Even if the vats started to smell you wouldn’t detect it over the smell of the bay or the stink of dead rats. It’s deserted at night, the warehouse workers probably aren’t paying attention to who is around during the day, no police presence, no pedestrians…”

Jason nodded in agreement. He had been thinking about all of those things too, when the crime scene techs were taking their notes. It made him wonder what was in the rest of the warehouses. If they got warrants and looked through others, how many more bodies would they find, alive or dead?

Red broke into Jason’s train of thought with another that was even more horrible.

“This guy has been operating in Gotham for months probably, possibly years, and we had no idea.” Red said, hollowly. “How did we have no idea?”

Jason took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. 

“No bodies before this, man. No bodies and people go missing all the time, man. No one notices or no one reports—“

Red cut Jason off with an abrupt, almost aggressive wave of his hand. 

“Not all people,” Red bit out harshly. “Only certain types of missing people aren’t noticed or reported and you know it. He’s preying on them deliberately. Counting on no one noticing or caring.”

Jason grimaced in sympathy. 

“Listen,” Jason began, “let me call Montoya. You can give us both the rundown on how you found the place and maybe that will put us one step closer to finding this guy.”

Red looked up at Jason sharply.

“Montoya?”

“She’s great. You’ll like her. She’s —“

“We’ve met,” Red cut him off and thought for a minute. “I’d still… I’d still just rather— I’d rather just talk to you. For now.”

Jason weighed his options. He was very aware that Red could hop off his couch and jump out of his window faster than Jason could blink. Jason, for his part, would have no idea when he would ever hear from the guy again. He had done it to Jason before, not too long ago. He could do it again just as easily. 

Red pulling the same stunt again was not an appealing prospect.

“Can I at least record—“

“No, you can listen carefully and attentively and ask thoughtful questions.”

“It’s four in the morning, Red. I’ve been up since six. I may be a little past careful and attentive right now…”

“Then make us some coffee and get ready to focus.”

Red was a hard man...

“Alright,” Jason sighed and levered himself off the couch. He walked to the kitchen and thought about shooting Montoya a quick text letting her know that Red had swung by while he prepped the French Press. He ultimately opted not to. The last thing he needed was Montoya showing up at his front door while Red snuck out through his back window. The guy already had some practice doing a quick exit out of that particular opening. 

Jason prepped the grounds while his kettle came to a boil. He peeked his head out of the doorway to the kitchen to call out to Red.

“Cream or sugar?”

Red was still on the sofa, tinkering with his phone. He didn’t even bother to look up at Jason when he answered.

“Black.”

“Like my heart.” Jason joked lamely as he moved back into the kitchen to pour two mugs of coffee.

He took them back out to his living room gingerly. Trying not to spill the coffee all over his sofa or his lovely plaid throw blanket that Red was totally wrong about. 

“Very black and very strong.” Jason said, handing Red a mug sitting back on the couch next to Red.

“Just how I like it,” Red said before lifting his mug to Jason in an ironic toast. He took a sip and was polite enough not to make a face at the taste. Jason had many skills, but even he was willing to admit making a decent cup of coffee wasn’t one of them. 

In his defense, his mother was even worse at it, so at least Jason came by the trait honestly.

“You gonna find your shirt or…” Red trailed off pointedly as he sipped his coffee. 

“Well if you’re gonna make me feel like a dick about it…”

Jason set down his own mug and levered himself off the couch and went in search of his discarded shirt.

“Maybe also do up your fly,” Red offered in a light voice. “Just a suggestion.”

Jason looked down and realized his pants had been unzipped since he got home. 

He was classy as fuck.

Grimacing to himself, Jason did up his fly and scooped his shirt back up from the floor. He slipped it on over his head as he moved back toward the couch.

“So,” he began, looking Red over as he prompted him to get started. “You had an exciting night.”

“‘Exciting’ isn’t the word I would use,” Red said wryly.

“What word would you use?” Jason asked, grabbing for his coffee.

“I think it would be a little closer to ‘horrifying’ and that’s a pretty high bar for me.” 

“I bet.” Jason said grimly. “So what happened tonight?”

Red pursed his lips for a moment, as if wondering where to start. He took a long pull from his mug as he thought.

“Stay with me on this, but over in West Gotham, near the universities, sometimes people have these… art shows.”

“Art shows or art shows?” Jason asked, wondering if Red was trying to be polite about some sort of porn thing. 

Red’s facial expression was half amused, half annoyed.

“A regular art show,” he said, still giving Jason what he felt want an unwarranted side eye. When Jason tried to stifled a laugh, Red’s face did relax into an actual smile for a moment as he continued.

“They aren’t quite underground art shows, but they aren’t official either. Some member of the wanna-be Bohemian hipster crowd will clear out one of their row houses, and a bunch of art students and amateurs will display their art and try to sell it. People mostly hear about it through word of mouth or social media. Sometimes reps from galleries are there. Sometimes you’ll get commissions. Sometimes a solitary buyer will take a liking to your stuff and buy you out. It just depends on how many rich yuppies show up, I guess.”

“Ok… and?”

“A friend of mine had one tonight, ergh last night now, I guess. She had an exhibitor back out at the last minute and she asked me to fill some wall space.”

“You’re an artist?” Jason asked, surprised. The guy had always seemed way more science-y than arty. Jason was suddenly deeply curious. 

What did the guy do? Paint? Draw? Sculpture?

Probably sculpture. He was good with his hands. Jason had a sudden, vivid image of Red wrapping his long, thin fingers around a pillar of clay and…

Jason made him himself stop.

“Not… not in the way you’re thinking. And again, I cannot stress this enough, not in a porn way.” Red continued, totally oblivious to the fact that it didn’t actually need to be in a porn way for Jason to picture it that way... “But I’ve done a few of these shows in the past. Mostly back in college to help make rent when I— when I moved out on my own. But more recently I just do one when a friend asks me. The last time I did one was over a year ago, I think. Maybe longer.”

“But you did this one tonight?” Jason asked, trying to focus back up on the case and not on the idea of Red making porny art.

“Yeah. I just put up a few things to fill the space. I wasn’t looking to seriously sell anything.”

“Where was the row house? Can you give me an address.”

Red hesitated before reaching for his phone. 

“I’ll text it to you.”

“You’re fine with me looking into this place?” Jason asked, tentatively.

“With all the details I gave you already, any detective worth his salt would be able to find the place and you’re a decent detective so—“ Red didn’t even look up from his phone while he talked.

Jason’s phone buzzed with a text, but he didn’t bother to look.

“Besides,” Red said with a casual wave of his hand, “I never use my real name at these things, anyway.”

Jason breathed out a wry laugh.

“Of course you don’t,” he said with a smile.

Jason was pretty sure he saw Red try to hide a smile of his own in his coffee cup. 

“Anyway, I’m at the place, just sort of standing by my stuff, chatting with friends and answering questions but not really trying to engage with anyone, when this guy comes up to me. He tells me he’s a rep from a big, fancy gallery in Central Gotham.”

“Which gallery?” Jason cut in with a question.

“That’s the thing. It was one I hadn’t heard of, and I thought I knew all of them. I’ve been doing this for a while, after all. I looked it up later and I was right, it didn’t exist. The guy didn’t act like any gallery rep I’d ever met, either. He didn’t have a business card or a camera. He wasn’t interested in my art, my experience, my medium, if I was classically trained, where else I was showing…” Red waved his hand in a circle as if indicating there were more things he just wasn’t mentioning. “He was just asking me about myself.”

“What did he ask?” 

“Where I went to school, what neighborhood I lived in. Was I single. Do I like dogs…”

“Yikes.”

“Yeah, ‘yikes’ is right. I finally got rid of him when someone came over asking to buy one of my pieces. The guy was interested in a series I was working on that I didn’t have the whole set on display at the show, just two pieces from it. We talked for a while about the other pieces, and by the time the buyer left, he sort of vanished. I forgot about him until—“ Red broke off, thoughtfully. 

“Until?”

“After the show ended, I packed up my stuff and I was walking to the train. He stepped out from this fenced in area where they keep the trash cans around the row houses. He called my name, the fake name I was using for the show, I mean. Then he started following me and asking questions again. I told him I was going home and tried nicely to say goodnight. He asked me out for a drink. I said that I was tired, but thanks for the offer. He kept bugging me to go out with him for a drink and I told him I wasn’t interested. He kept pressing and following me and getting more and more pushy until I finally told him to get lost.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t get lost?” Jason ventured, trying to control his temper. He knew Red could take care of himself, that he could probably take Jason in a fight. But Jay’s macho instincts were still kicking into over-protective mode. 

Red’s mouth twisted wryly.

“No, he did not get lost. What he got was pissed. He grabbed my arm, knocked my art bag to the ground and broke almost everything inside of it. He called me talentless and a few other things I won’t repeat but were very homophobic and started getting really physical. It surprised me how quickly his whole attitude changed.”

“What did you do?”

“I did what any Former Boy Wonder would do in that situation,” Red said with a bitter smile. “I dropped a tracer in his pocket and knocked him on his ass.”

“I bet he loved that.”

“He did not. He started yelling at me again. He said I wasn’t good enough for him anyway and took off down the street. I walked a few more blocks, made sure he wasn’t following me, then caught a Lyft home. I dropped off my now ruined pieces and looked the guy up. The name he gave me was fake, obviously. So I changed into my uniform and went out to follow the tracer.”

“That’s how you found the warehouse?”

“Yeah, that’s how I found the warehouse. He had apparently gone there after our… altercation and left his jacket behind. I had dropped the tracer into his hoodie pocket. It was the easiest one to access. I should have tried for his jeans but that wasn’t something I wanted to risk…”

Jason nodded in understanding and gave Red a sympathetic look.

“I looked up who owned the warehouse when I got the address but it turned out no one does. It was foreclosed on by a bank a few years back and they haven’t been able to sell the thing off. Not a huge surprise given the location and the condition of the exterior.

“Also it does smell like Gotham Bay and dead rats,” Jason pointed out.

Red smiled slightly in agreement and continued.

“So I checked out the exterior and then I picked the lock, and checked out the inside. He wasn’t there but his jacket, the one I dropped the tracer in, was. I checked out the photos on the table, realized what they were, then got the hell out of there and called you.”

“How long were you inside?” 

“Maybe three minutes.”

“Not long.”

“I was worried he’d be back and may have a weapon in the warehouse.”

“You didn’t call Batman for backup?”

“Mmmm, B has an interesting relationship with law enforcement and may not have immediately wanted to bring you guys in. I figured that if there are multiple vics and the guy was out hunting for another target tonight, it’s better that law enforcement and the press are letting the right people know.”

Jason nodded, thoughtfully, while he took another sip of his coffee. 

“Think you could talk to a sketch artist about what this guy looked like?” Jason asked. 

Red reached for his phone and sent another text. 

“I drew him myself a little earlier. When the memories were more fresh.”

Jason glanced down at his phone. The sketch was good. After seeing it, Jason was less surprised to hear that Red was in the Gotham Art Scene. The sketch was done digitally, probably with some sort of stylus and electronic pad, the lines were clean, smooth and clear.

The image that came across was of a heavy set man. He looked youngish, late twenties, early thirties at most. His features were set close together and his hair was long and looked a little stringy. His eyes looked downright creepy and Jason fought down a shiver as he looked at them.

“We’ll run it through—“ Jason started, but Red cut him off.

“I already did. Nothing came up.”

“I’m still gonna run it,” Jason said firmly.

Red waved his hand dismissively. 

“Sure. Fine. You’ll find the same thing. I’m guessing my facial recognition software might be a little more high tech than GCPD’s, but feel free to try.”

“Who do you think this guy is?”

“A creepy serial killer who wants to cut me up and put me in a drum of acid?” Red offered and suddenly it all came together for Jason.

Of course Red was spooked. He was spooked because the guy targeted him. He was spooked because if he had been anyone else, he could have been dead right then.

Jason fought down another shudder. He could see why Red was shaken up. It was a scary thought.

“Red—“ Jason started, but then didn’t have anything else to say. He reached out a hand but Red brushed it aside.

“It’s fine,” Red said, shaking his head. “I’m fine. The whole thing was just a little… unsettling.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Jason agreed. “I’d be pretty unsettled too.”

Red wasn’t looking at him. He was staring off in the direction of the window in Jason’s living room. 

“Are you thinking about sneaking out my window right now?” Jason asked, hesitantly.

Red started and then turned to look at Jason in surprise. Then he smiled tiredly. 

“I took the stairs this time. So no zip line,” Red reassured him.

“Good, because you look like you’re already a million miles away from here, man.”

“I… guess I am. I’m just...”

“Just?”

“Just wondering if he found someone else. You know, after me.”

“Well, his happy hidey hole was full of pissed off, sleep deprived cops all night so if he did, he wouldn’t have anywhere to bring them.”

“Yeah, that’s what I keep telling myself. That even if he did find someone. Even if he did kill them, he won’t have his usual means of disposal and maybe we’ll find him quickly, but…”

“But that story still ends with someone dead, I hear you.” Jason said and reached out a hand rub Red’s shoulder. He was relieved when Red didn’t pull away this time. 

“I keep wondering if I had called Batman and if we’d staked the place out—“

“Hey,” Jason said and grabbed Red’s chin, gently. Red looked up into Jason’s face with the most beautiful, most worried blue eyes that Jason had ever seen. “You made the right call.”

Red slid his eyes away from Jason’s and he was back looking at the window again.

Jason wondered if he was considering risking the window now after all, even without his zip line.

Red sighed, and suddenly stood.

“I should go,” Red said, nodding towards the door.

“You don’t need to leave. You could stay,” Jason offered. “It’s late and you’re—“

Red lifted an eyebrow at him knowingly.

“That’s not what I mean.” Jason said, flushing a little as he lifted both hands defensively. “I could sleep on the sofa and you could—“

“I can’t,” Red said with a tiredly teasing smile. “I have to walk my dog.”

“You know, you don’t need to try and scare me off with a fake dog…” Jason started, defensively. “I am not a creepy, choppy serial killer.”

“He’s not fake,” Red insisted, walking towards the door. Jason followed him to let him out.

“Oh yeah, what breed is he, then?”

Red slipped half out Jason’s front door turned half back to smile at him while he answered.

“Doberman/Rottweiler mix,” he said.

And then he was gone.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are puppies, bad boots, baseball and beer in this chapter. Need I say more?

Jason woke up groggily to the sound of his cell phone buzzing. He fumbled it off his night stand, almost dropping the damn thing as he tapped the button to answer the call. It was from a number he didn’t know but…

“This is Todd,” Jason half slurred into the phone. 

“It’s me. Any update?” Red’s voice sounded wide awake and completely alert.

Not. Fair.

How did the man operate on so little sleep?

Probably voodoo.

Maybe Jason wasn't doing enough voodoo…

“You mean any update since you left my apartment,” Jason paused to catch the time on the clock, “two hours ago?”

“You’re not at work yet?” Red asked, sounding surprised.

“Some of us mere mortals require sleep, Red.”

“When’s the briefing this morning?” Red asked, ignoring Jason’s excellent early morning jokes. 

“Mmmm, 8:30, I think they said last night. Did you sleep at all?”

“I—“ Red started, but was cut off when Jason heard a soft whimpering bark in the background.

“Is that the Doberman/Rottweiler mix you mentioned?” Jason asked with a smile, sitting up in bed as he listened hard to hear Red’s muffled voice calming the whimpering dog. Jason was actually relieved to hear the dog was real. It was nice to know Red wasn’t just making up excuses to leave his place last night. “He sounds terrifying. Those sad whimpers really do stir terror in my heart. What’s his name? Butch? Bones?”

“It’s Herc, and he’s upset he didn’t get his morning treat yet,” Red answered, there was the sound of some happy dog chomping in the background and Jason smiled again. 

“Herc? Like Hercules?” Jason asked.

“Short for Hercule Poirot,” Red explained. “He has some very exacting tastes. Just like his namesake.”

“Poor puppy. I know what it feels like to go without a ‘morning treat,’” Jason joked.

He heard Red breathe out a laugh on the other side of the phone. 

“Yeah, Herc is fixed so he’s less into those kinds of morning treats. He’s mostly interested in some morning chicken.”

“I was talking about coffee but, yeah. I like those kinds of morning treats too,” Jason said slyly.

Red laughed and Herc made a little yip in the background that made Jason smile.

Red sounded less on edge than he had last night. Jason was relieved to hear him joking and laughing again.

“I wish I had Herc’s self control, though…” Jason said, looking wryly down at the tent in his boxers.

“So the briefing is at 8:30, then?” Red asked, almost abruptly. “Guess you better shower and head into the precinct.”

“You’re probably right.” Jason conceded. “I’ll call you when it’s over.”

“No need. Careful driving. Drink some coffee before you leave. Actually, drink a lot of it. You sound like hell.” Red said and hung up.

Jason considered calling Red back just to see if the call would go through but the man was right. He did need to get into the shower. He levered himself out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. He had a feeling he’d be hearing from Red again sooner rather than later, anyway.

*****

Jason’s precinct was usually lively, even late at night and early in the morning. Today, it was down right bustling. Beat cops were rushing around, assistants were making copies, the other detectives were all standing or sitting at a sort of angle that indicated that they were on high alert for stray facts or intel about the big case that Jay had landed last night to come drifting their way.

“New Guy!” Clint rushed over towards Jason as he walked in. The guy had not beaten Jason into the office a single day since they started working together. He must have gotten some gossip late last night about what had happened. “Why the fuck didn’t you call me last night!? I’m your partner—“ 

Clint’s diatribe was cut off by Montoya’s voice sounding through the dull roar that had engulfed the precinct.

“Todd! My office. Now.”

Jason lifted both arms and shrugged his shoulders at Clint in a sort of ‘what are ya gonna do?’ gesture then spun around to make his way to Montoya’s office. 

He took short desperate sips from his coffee mug as he dodged beat cops and dispatchers. Sleep still tugged at his eyes and the two cups of coffee he had before he hit the road this morning hadn’t seemed to help all that much. 

Montoya gestured Jason into her office with a wry look and a sweep of her hand. 

“Shut the door behind you,” she instructed, sitting down behind her desk.

Jason closed the door softly before gingerly dropping into the visitor chair on the other side of her desk and settling in.

“You get any sleep, boss?” Jason asked, taking in all the empty coffee cups in her trash can. It was an impressive number of empty cups, but Jason feared for Montoya’s stomach lining. 

Montoya shook her head.

“Not really. I’m guessing you didn’t either since you sent a pretty detailed composite sketch through the system last night. Who drew it for you?”

“I found a late night visitor in my apartment when I got home. Turns out, he’s a talented artist.”

“He broke into your apartment?” She asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“You’re surprised he could?”

“No, I’m just surprised he did. I would have thought he was more an email or text message kind of guy. Not so much for the in person chats.”

“You’re not wrong,” Jason agreed. “It’s usually texts and print outs, but I think he wanted to talk last night.”

“What did he say?”

Jason gave Montoya the highlights of Red’s story. She listened attentively, sipping yet another cup of coffee.

“Hmmmm, you run the address for the brownstone that he gave you?”

“Row home owned by a high school art teacher and her lawyer husband. Very upper middle class domestic. Two kids, a dog and no priors on any of them.”

“It may be worth it to pay them a visit today after the briefing. See if they remember seeing this guy that your boy encountered too, or if they know how he heard about the event. Even I didn’t know about these things.”

“Yeah, I planned to check it out this afternoon. Maybe when she gets back from school.”

Montoya nodded and stood. 

“Alright, we’ll chat more after the briefing.”

Jason walked close behind Montoya on the way to the conference room, trying to avoid Clint as long as he possibly could. He could see the guy from across the precinct floor, glowering at Jason under eyebrows so bushy it was a little gross.

Jason gave Clint a little finger wave and a forced smile across the room. Clint, in return, gave Jason the finger as he entered the conference room. Jason tipped his travel mug in Clint’s direction in a fake toast and ducked into the conference room after the man.

Two other detectives, a few beat cops and the crime scene techs from last night were all sitting around the table. Each of them was nursing a large cup of coffee and a donut or two. Jason snagged a donut from the box, picking the one that looked like it had the most sugar. Taking a big bite, Jason settled down into a seat around the conference table. 

At each seat there was a briefing book. Jason idly paged through his booklet as Montoya made her way to the front of the room and flicked on a Powerpoint with a few notes and some crime scene pictures.

“Alright, troops.” Montoya began. “Detective Todd stumbled into what looks a lot like a serial case. Thoughtful guy he that he is, he managed to do it at 2am while all of us were sensibly asleep. Why don’t we all give Detective Todd a big thank you?”

The room filled with tired groans and Jason had to dodge a few crumpled up pieces of paper that flew at his head. One, thrown particularly aggressively, came from Clint. 

Jason wondered if there was a rock inside. 

“What can I say? I have an excellent sense of timing.” Jason joked, polishing off his donut and reaching for a second one. 

Montoya pulled everyone’s attention back to the screen with a wave.

“So, from what the techs and coroner have gathered, we have at least five bodies in the vats, but there may end up being more. The pictures, however, tell a different story. They’re from a type of instant camera called a Fiji—“

“A Fuji,” Jason corrected, absently, still a little preoccupied with his donut. 

“A what?” Montoya said, spinning to face him.

“I think it’s pronounced ‘Fuji…’” Jason said lamely.

“Ohhh look troops, Todd knows about cameras and he has excellent timing,” Montoya said in a lightly caustic tone of voice.

A few more groans and a few more crumpled pieces of paper came flying his way. Jason felt strongly that he would have been able to duck more of them if he hadn’t been running on just two hours sleep.

“Anyway, the pictures indicate that there are more vics we don’t have any bodies for.”

“Any idea how many?” one of the other detectives, MacArthy, asked. He was a grim faced veteran of the force who took his job very seriously. 

“Hard so say,” Montoya replied. “The photos are still being analyzed. But we are seeing what looks like at least seven different people in the photos we recovered from the crime scene…”

Another round of groans broke out through the room.

“Cause of death can’t be definitively determined from the bodies… erg, the pieces of the bodies. They were too badly decomposed by the caustic chemicals in the drums. But from the photos it looks like they likely died through a combination of manual and ligature strangulation. For those of you not in the know, that’s a tough way to off someone. It takes practice and it takes time. So he’s taking them somewhere private and quiet to kill them. Possibly the warehouse we raided last night.”

Montoya went into more detail about the potential perpetrator. The picture Red drew popped up on the screen along with a few bullet points.

“The guy’s young but experienced if he’s managed to go undetected for this long—“ Montoya began and Jason flashed back to what Red said the night before.

“How did we have no idea?”

“But now that we found his hideout out, he may be pushed into making some rash decisions. We have reason to believe that he’s familiar with Gotham’s Art World and uses small time art events to prey on vulnerable victims. Ones that are generally young, broke and homosexual. He employs ruses to get his victims alone before he strikes. He seems charming and easy going during conversation. He gets aggressive when his victims try to turn him down.”

Montoya finished the briefing by tossing out instructions on who would make calls, who would canvass and who got to go home and finally sleep. Jason pulled canvassing duty along with Clint.

Not great. 

Montoya pulled Jason aside as everyone else filed out of the room and reminded him to pay a visit to the host of Red’s ‘Art Show’ the night before. She said she would like to ride along for that particular interview, thinking maybe the woman would be more likely to open up to another female than if two male cops suddenly showed up at her door.

“And patch up whatever the fuck is going on between you and Clint,” Montoya finished, waving Jason off as she started back to her office.

Jason sighed and sucked down the last of his coffee. He made his way to the break room to refill his travel mug, trying to buy himself some time to consider what to say to Clint. 

It did not work.

“New Guy!” Clint’s voice cut through Jason’s thoughts. “What the fuck happened last night!?!”

Jason sighed and turned away from the coffee machine to the face man.

He looked even worse than usual, the hangover was clear on his face and it was compounded with what was probably lack of sleep. Dark circles ringed his eyes and stubble was spread thick across his cheeks. Jason wasn’t exactly looking forward to explaining what happened last night to this guy.

“I got a tip, followed up, and found some stiffs,” Jason answered with a shrug, tring to minimize things as best he could.

“Sounds more like you found a bunch of slimes than stifs,” Clint joked. Jason struggled not to either roll his eyes or gag. “You didn’t call me?”

“You were toasted when I left, someone did try to ring you up but they said you just sang jingle bells into your phone until they hung up.”

Clint’s face relaxed into a smile.

“Oh yeah, I guess I was getting into the spirit early…”

“Something like that, yeah,” Jason agreed.

“Alright, so what’s the skinny then? What happened?”

Jason finished pouring his coffee and twisted the lid on his mug in place.

“No time to get into it now.” Jason explained, shaking his head. “Montoya’s got us on canvassing duty. I’ll fill you in on the way.”

****

Canvassing did not go well.

They started over in the warehouse district. The place was almost as empty at 10am as it was at 2am last night when Jason first saw it. Jason was starting to think that more rats than people occupied this particular part of Gotham City. 

The only signs of life this morning were a few large semi trucks backed up to docks out to the side of the warehouses. Drivers sat in the warmth of their cabs while the warehouse workers loaded up the trucks while puffs of white steam came from their mouths with every labored breath. 

It was cold again that morning, the chill bite of wind cut through Jason’s jeans and his leather jacket did little more to protect him from the cold when they stepped out of their vehicle. Jason fought down a shiver as he locked the car behind them and fished a list of addresses from his pocket. 

Clint didn’t seem to notice the cold.

“How’d we get stuck with canvass duty?” Clint complained, hiking up his khakis. He spit on the sidewalk just a few inches from Jason’s boot and looked around the area scornfully.

“You know that in some cities spitting on the sidewalk like that is illegal?” Jason said trying to hide his disgust but not really managing. 

“What are you gonna do, New Guy? Arrest me?”

If only…

It didn’t take too long for them to canvass all around the area near the warehouse. Lots of the workers were reluctant to talk to the cops. Not surprising. This area and this line of work was probably pretty popular with the ex-con crowd. Fortunately, Clint was pissed enough about being on the street that morning that he managed to bring a lot of the warehouse workers around by bashing the GCPD employees right along with them.

Such a helpful approach.

Even after Clint got them talking, they didn’t learn much, though. 

“Nah man,” one of the warehouse guys they found working told them as he loaded a truck. “No one works at that fucking place. No one’s worked there since I’ve had this gig. Even the druggies don’t go in there.”

“Why do you think?” Jason asked, looking up at the guy in the bed of the truck. The man shook his head and kept tossing packages. 

“The bank has the place locked up real tight with fancy new fucking locks. Too much trouble to break those.”

“When did the fancy locks happen?” Clint asked. “I haven’t seen those on any of the other foreclosed buildings.”

“Who the fuck knows. I don’t go over there. That’s trespassing. The locks have been that way since I started here.”

Clint and Jason looked at each other and Jason nodded slightly to Clint, indicating he should take the lead.

“How long you been working here, my man,” Clint asked, casually.

“Dunno exactly. Maybe 3 months?”

“You ever see a guy, heavy set, bad hair, walking around the place?”

“Nah, I didn’t see nobody.”

“Can I show you a picture? Just to be sure?”

The guy in the bed of the truck sighed and stopped working. He looked down at Clint and Jason with disgust.

“Listen, I don’t want to give no druggies any problems. I’m not a snitch. I just want do my job and go home.”

“This isn’t about drugs.” Jason told him grimly. “We’re looking into a homicide and it isn’t drug related.”

“How do you know?” The guy asked.

“It’s our job to know,” Clint answered. “Listen man, this guy, the guy we’re looking for, we’re all better off if he isn’t on the streets. And I promise, he doesn’t give a fuck about anything, let alone snitches.”

“He’s a real bad dude?”

“Real bad.” Jason confirmed.

The guy hopped down off the bed of the truck and took a look at the picture Clint held out for him. He peered at it carefully for a few long minutes. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen him around. I’d remember that hair.”

“If you see him,” Clint said, handing the guy his card, “give us a call. Don’t try to talk to this guy. Just call.”

The man nodded and Jason and Clint left.

Pretty much every interaction went the same way. Either the people who worked in the area didn’t want to talk or they didn’t know anything.

“That’s it, I’m done,” Clint declared around three in the afternoon. “I need a sandwich and a beer.”

“The sandwich we can swing,”Jason agreed. “The beer, not so much at three in the afternoon. Montoya is watching..”

They headed back towards the precinct. Grabbing sandwiches along the way and Jason dropped Clint at the precinct and scooped Montoya. 

She slid into the passenger's seat and they headed off toward West Gotham.

“Did Red Robin mention anything about this woman when you talked?” Montoya asked, stealing one of the chips from Jason’s lunch.

“Nope,” Jason shook his head, “he just said a friend asked him to display some of his work in a show she was facilitating in this woman’s house. Not sure if the homeowner and the friend are the same person or not. It seemed like maybe they weren’t.”

Montoya was pointedly quiet for a long moment before speaking again.

“I never would have pegged him for the starving artist type…” she mused aloud.

“Well, he is pretty skinny…” Jason joked lamely. Montoya gave him a side eye and a half smile. “But yeah, I know what you mean. It hadn’t occurred to me until he said he had been doing the art shows for a while.”

It bothered Jason a little that he hadn’t really thought about what Red actually did to pay the bills. Since last night, Jason had been pointly trying not to think about it. He didn’t really want to examine what it said about himself that he never really actually thought about Red’s hobbies, or what he did for a real job, or whether or not he had pets who had scheduled morning chicken treat times.

He felt like he had learned more about Red in the guy’s twenty minute explanation of how he had almost been chopped up a serial killer than in any of the casual conversations they had over the past few years.

It had never really struck Jason before just how much Red knew about him and just how little Jason knew about Red. Red knew where Jason lived, he had access to all of his work files, he knew where Jason went to eat, what bars he liked. Hell, the guy probably knew what kind of underwear Jason wore, but Jay had no idea the guy even had a dog.

“What kind of art do you think he does?” Montoya’s voice broke through Jason’s train of thought. “Splatter paintings with batarangs? Ink blots of the sewer systems?”

“Decoupage of Joker’s head?” Jason chimed in lamely.

Montoya was still laughing as they pulled up to the curb of the house. It was a nice simple row house. Obviously constructed back in the 1960’s when this area of Gotham City had first been gentrified. It was neat, the paint was fresh, the fence was new, the grass was cut and the leaves had been raked into tidy little piles at the curb, waiting patiently for a Municipal Leaf Collection Truck that probably wouldn’t come given Gotham City’s perpetual funding issues.

Jason and Montoya gingerly opened the gate and made their way down the front walk. The house had a pretty wreath of sunflowers made of recycled paper on the door. Montoya eyed it with mild disdain as she pressed the doorbell.

Montoya was clearly not a door wreath kind of girl.

A tiny, heavyset women opened the door. She was wearing a smock style dress and large chunky jewelry. Her shoes were bright fuschia and a pair of oversized glasses hung precariously at the tip of her nose. Her hair was dyed a dark shade of burgundy that did not match her eyebrows.

“Oh,” she said in a surprisingly deep voice. “Hi! Can I help you?”

“Ms. Pail?” Montoya asked.

“Please, call me, Heather.”

Jason and Montoya did introductions and made a show of taking out and displaying their badges.

“You’re detectives?” She asked, hesitantly, peering through her large lenses at the badges they held out.

“Yes, ma’am, we just wanted to ask you a few questions about an art show you had here last night.”

“I did check with my council member about them,” Heather said quickly, looking up at them with an earnest expression on her face. “He said it thought it would be fine for us to hold it here if there weren’t more than 100 people at a time. And there weren’t—“

“It’s not about that ma’am. We’re actually interested in someone who may have attended. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions about that?” Montoya asked in a gentle, soothing tone of voice.

“No, no feel free.”

“How long had you been planning this… show?”

“Well we like to have one every three or four months. We all like to get together and chat about our new work, show it off a little, have a glass of wine or two. The last one was at Vivian’s, and I was next up. So I guess we knew it would be happening for about 8 months at least.”

“How do you get the word out about these shows?”

Heather’s chunky necklace clacked as she shrugged.

“Word of mouth, mostly. People will post on social media, sometimes. We used to hang up flyers but then we’d get some of the rowdier crowd from the University so we don’t do that anymore. We like a quieter show now that we’re getting a little older.”

“How would an artist sign up to put their art in the show?”

“Oh, no one signs up. We just have the usual group who displays and then we’ll get one or two new people each time. Again it’s all just who you talk to. Nothing formal. Nothing official. We mostly all know each other from school.”

Montoya pulled out the picture that Red had drawn and held it out to Heather.

“Do you recognize this man?”

Heather tilted her head to the side and examined the picture thoughtfully.

“What did he do?” she asked, while looking it over.

“He’s a person of interest, we just want to talk to him about a case,” Montoya assured her with a smile.

Heather looked up and shook her head.

“I don’t recognize him but there were a few new faces last night. Things got a little crowded at points, so it’s possible he was here and I missed him…”

“Any surveillance camera in the area?” Jason asked looking around at near by light polls.

She shook her head again.

“No, this is a residential area, very safe. No one I know of has anything like that.”

“Did you hear anything about one of the artists exhibiting last night getting bothered or harassed by anyone?”

She looked alarmed at the idea.

“Absolutely not!! And were all very close. If anything like that had happened, I would know right away. We’re a tight knit group and we look out for each other.”

Jason very much doubted that Heather’s ‘tight knit group’ knew one of their members moonlighted in spandex so he wasn’t so sure they were all was as close as Heather thought.

Jason never considered quite how many people Red had to lie to and keep things from on a regular basis. He wondered what that felt like. He wondered if there was anyone Red ever felt like he could really be honest with, about his life, about his choices, about his feelings and fears and hopes. 

The whole thing sounded pretty lonely to Jason.

No wonder the guy got a dog.

They asked a few more questions, got a list of other people who had been at the party last night, thanked Heather and headed back to their car.

“Ok, so we learned a little bit about where this guy likes to hunt,” Jason said, buckling his seatbelt. “What else did we learn?”

“We now know we live in a world where those fuschia boots exist. That feels like a prescient and cautionary piece of information to me,” Montoya said.

Jason breathed out a laugh and started the car.

****

Jason didn’t tear himself away from the precinct that night until almost ten fifteen. By that point he was starving and desperately needed something other than bad coffee and stale donuts to eat.

Like a beer. He would deeply appreciate a beer. 

Leaving his car at the precinct, Jason grabbed the train to his favorite bar. He settled into an empty booth with a sigh of relief and was just giving the pretty waitress his drink order when Red slid into the bench on the other side of the table.

“Make that two beers, please,” Red said, lifting two fingers and smiling up at the waitress. “Thanks.”

She smiled back and went to put in their order. 

Red pulled a scary looking laptop out of a worn out red backpack and set it up on the table between them. He was wearing jeans and T-shirt again, with a thick hoodie and a scarf wrapped around his neck. His cheeks were flushed from the cold and his hair looked messy and wind blown. 

He was really fucking cute.

Jason rested his elbows on either side of the computer and leaned in across the table. He lifted one eyebrow at Red and tilted his head to one side.

“You stalking me, bro?” 

“I stalk everyone, Detective,” Red said dismissively, not even looking up from his laptop as he waved a hand casually.

“At this point, you might as well call me Jay.”

Red looked up from his laptop abruptly. His facial expression was carefully neutral but his bright blue eyes were wide enough that Jason knew he had surprised him.

“Jay,” Red said slowly, as if testing to see how the name felt in his mouth.

Jason smiled at the sound.

“I like the way you say my name,” Jason said. “You should do it more often.”

“More… often…” Red said slowly, in a low, thick tone of voice that made Jason fight back a shiver.

“I—“ Red began before he trailed off and looked away from Jason’s face. There was a slight flush darkening his cheek bones and his lips were parted as if he was on the verge of saying something else. 

Then he suddenly shook his head and looked back up at Jason.

“Did you find anything interesting today?” Red asked, pointedly changing the subject as he booted the laptop up with a whir. 

“A pair of fuschia boots that Montoya felt strongly implied the existence of pure, unadulterated evil.”

Red looked up from his laptop again but this time with a smile.

“You talked to Heather Pail?”

“Yeah she seemed to surprised to hear anyone got hassled at her show.”

“To be fair, I wasn’t truly hassled until after her show…”

Jason snorted a skeptical laugh just as the waitress came by with their beers. They ordered a pizza to share.

When he waitress was gone, Jason lifted his pint glass towards Red.

“To Herc. May he always get his morning treat.”

Red smiled and touched his pint glass to Jason’s.

“To Herc,” he repeated and they both sipped their beers.

Red leaned back in his seat to look at Jason over his pint glass.

“I actually called and texted a few other people who were at the show last night to see if he had hassled anyone else.”

“And?”

“The issue is, the usual crew is generally female. I gather the females aren’t his type. I don’t really know the other men who went to the show. They aren’t really in my circle. I asked a friend to ask around and see if anyone else had a problem with any of the other men at shows lately. Or if they had been to any other shows that had issues with creepy dudes. I haven’t been to one of these things in a while but that’s the type of information that would generally get around.”

“Yeah, Heather said you guys are all pretty close.”

Red rolled his eyes expressively. 

“I mean, she’s not completely wrong…” Red conceded to Jason. “We do get together pretty frequently.”

“But you’re not as close with them as they think you are?”

Red shrugged. “No one is ever as close as they think they are,” he said, philosophically.

Jason thought about that for a beat, while he sipped his beer.

“I don’t know,” Jason said, pointedly. “My mom and I are pretty close. I think there’s something about working with someone to survive that builds deeper bonds than painting pretty pictures together ever could.”

“You may be right,” Red said nodding, but Jason got the impression he didn’t entirely agree with Jason.

It made Jason wonder how close Red was with his own parents. If they called Red after work like Jason’s mom called him. He wondered if they knew what he did late at night and if they stayed up worrying over his safety. He wondered if they had standing movie nights like he and his mom did, and what they talked about over the holidays... 

Jason got the impression that maybe they didn’t do any of those things. That felt a little sad. 

“So give me the rundown on what they said at the briefing today,” Red said.

Jason talked him through the high points as well as all the times the other cops had unfairly thrown paper balls at his head.

Red tapped at this computer while they talked about the case and ate pizza.

Finally Red leaned back away from his keyboard and grabbed another slice. 

“Alright, let’s give the data a bit of time to run and we’ll see what comes up,” he said, paying closer attention to his food now than he had at any point earlier.

“Wait, What? What are we running?”

“I’ve built a few algorithms in a system, I dropped in a few more variables based on what you’ve told me the crime scene techs found and expanded the search parameters to look outside of Gotham City. The data need some time to run. Then we’ll see if we’ve had similar crimes elsewhere and maybe find some other potential vics.”

“How long will it take?”

Red shrugged again and took another bite of pizza.

“Not sure exactly but we should definitely order another round of beers.”

“You’re looking outside of Gotham City?” Jason asked.

“The guy is young, but experienced. There’s a pile of dead guys in those photos. I find it hard to believe that we totally missed a serial killer who has been operating in Gotham as long as this guy has been killing.”

“So you think…”

“Recent transplant,” Red said, nodding. “I’m guessing he’s relatively new to town. But who knows.” Red shrugged. “We’ve missed bigger road signs before.”

“Like what?”

Red’s face twisted bitterly for a brief moment before he shook his head. Sighing, he looked off to the side, away from Jason’s face, as he answered.

“We’re humans. Humans miss things all of the time. That’s why I build models and programs and algorithms to find things. Data are harder to argue with or ignore.”

Jason nodded, thoughtfully.

“Data or no, you’re a hard guy to ignore and you make some pretty compelling arguments.”

Red cut his eyes back to Jason with wry twist of his lips.

“Maybe for you, not for everyone,” he said before switching subjects abruptly. “I’ve also been pouring over social media all day to see if anyone posted pictures of the guy at the event last night.”

“Any luck?” Jason asked, wondering what Red’s social media handle would be.

The Caped Artiste?

The Decoupage Avenger?

The Scarlet Sculptor? 

“Not yet, but I have some friends sending me pictures that didn’t make the social media cut. Hopefully I’ll have more to look at tonight.”

An alert buzzed on both Jason and Red’s phones at the same time.

They both glanced down and swore at the same time. Jason looked up from his phone and grimaced at Red.

“Just got the final Knights score?”

“How did they go from being two games ahead of everyone to half a game behind the Rockets in a matter of a week? What the hell?” 

“Freaking mystery,” Jason said. “Fuck Star City.”

They talked about baseball playoffs and drank their beer for about twenty more minutes before Red’s laptop chimed in to interrupt them.

Red’s eyes cut back to the screen right away.

“Annnd we’ve got results,” Red singsonged, pulling his laptop in close and typing at the keyboard.

“Whatcha got?” Jason asked, taking another pull on his pint glass.

“I got 178 more potential vics,” Red said and Jason let out a long low whistle. “Probably not all of them are dead,” Red said, obviously trying to reassure him. “They are clustered in a few specific cities though. I’ll send you the list of potential vics and see if you can get a DNA match from any of the bodies. I’ll also send you these cities and you can reach out to the precincts and see if they have info on a rash of missing people who meet our guy’s type.”

Jason’s phone buzzed a few times as Red sent through the information.

“How is it you always seem to text or call me from a different number?” Jason asked looking at the read out on his phone. 

“I have a program that spoofs a new number every time.”

“So what would happen if I called back?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether or not I you to be able to contact me back,” Red said simply.

They finished off the pizza and beer after Red paid the check, in cash of course. Red packed away his laptop with practiced ease. 

“You need a ride home?” Jason asked him.

Red looked up and smiled.

“You took the train. You don’t have your car.”

“So you are stalking me.”

“Like I said, I stalk everyone.”

“I’m a cop.” Jason said. “I can requisition a car. There’s gotta be some perks to this job. It can’t all be dead bodies and pissy partners.”

“Your apartment is like two blocks from here.”

“Good point, you better just come home with me. It’s not safe out there on the streets of Gotham. Lotsa crazies. You walk your dog yet today?”

Red smiled as he answered.

“I did, but Herc hates sleeping alone, so…”

A sudden rush shot straight through Jason’s stomach at the thought of Red sleeping in his bed.

“Herc is welcomed to share with us,” Jason said around a suddenly very dry mouth.

“Herc and I will take that under advisement,” Red said with a smile as he stood and tossed his backpack over one shoulder. He gave Jason a wave and then he was gone.


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason calls his mom, get stalked, bitches about baseball, gets a lead and runs into some trouble. Enjoy!!

The Knights played the Rockets again four days later. It was a three game series in Star City. Jason listened to the game on the radio while he worked at the precinct, wishing he could share his commentary with Red. He was half toying with the thought of trying to text the guy about an outrageously called strike when Jason’s phone buzzed.

A text from an unknown number.

Jay smiled as he pulled up the message.

*Any luck, today?* Red had texted.

*With the case or the Knights?*

*The case. I already know the Knights are just going to break my heart.*

Jason snorted a laugh as he punched in a response.

*Nah, the coroner is knee deep into the those barrels though. Hopefully they’ll find something soon. We need a break in the case. Canvassing and surveillance don’t seem to be working.*

*Yeah, a friend took a pile of pictures at the show. I’m meeting her for drinks tonight to see if I can spot the guy in any of them. If we get a decent picture I can run it through some facial recognition software and hopefully get a name.”

*Can I come look at pictures too?*

*You cannot. You need to keep Clint company. He’ll be sad without you. He is a man with deep-seeded feelings. I’ll text you if I get something. PS - That clearly wasn’t a strike. This umpire is a hack.*

Jason laughed again and got back to work. Clint stumbled out around 6 to meet some other detectives at the bar, which was about 15 minutes before the updated coroner reports came in.

Jason stayed to review them, they were not cheerful evening reading. By the time he had gotten through most of them, all Jason wanted to go was go home and take a hot shower and forget that bodies could even be dismembered.

Jay packed up, scooped his cell phone off his desk and tried not to see the Knights score in the MLB push notification that came through on his screen. He gave Montoya a wave goodbye as he headed out into the chilly Gotham night.

Rush hour was long over by the time Jason hit the road so it only took him about 10 minutes to get back to his apartment. He unlocked the door, pulled off his coat and shoes as he made his way to the bathroom. Jason took a very long, very hot shower before toweling dry and throwing on a pair of sweats. 

Making his way to the kitchen, Jason tried to remember if he had anything edible in his house. Eggs? He probably had eggs.

Jason popped open a beer and was foraging for foods in the barren depths of his fridge when his phone buzzed. Jason fished it out of his pocket, hoping it was Red with some good news.

It was his mom. He put her on speaker as he continued to dig for something to eat that wasn’t eggs or olives.

“Hey, Ma. How are you?”

“Worried about you. I haven’t heard from you in a few days.”

“Work’s been crazy. I got this case— lots going on.”

“This is why you should have done something with computers, Jay. Computer guys don’t work so many hours.”

Jason smiled as he thought about Red’s beat up laptop and the perpetual dark circles under his eyes.

“I wouldn’t be so sure. I know a few guys in tech who’ve got me beat there. How have you been?”

Jason’s mom gave him the rundown on all her workplace drama. She complained about losing on all eight of the scratch offs she bought, even though she got them on the nineteenth of the month, her lucky day. She gushed about the flowers her long term boyfriend had gotten her just before he left town for work.

“To brighten my day while he’s gone, he said. He’s so good to me.”

Jason smiled as his mom talked.

Things hadn’t always been easy with Jason and his mom. The drugs had made things hard for her for a long time. She had gotten clean during Jason’s sophomore year in high school. It took a few times for it to stick, but when it finally did things seem to snap into place for her. She got a job a small, close knit accounting office, found herself a nice long term boyfriend and moved into a better residential area of Gotham. By the time Jason left for college he finally felt like he didn’t need to worry about her all of the time any more.

Which was not to say he didn’t still worry pretty often. Old habits die hard, after all.

“When’s he supposed to be back home?” Jason asked her. “Did you need anything while he’s gone? I can stop by.”

“No, no, don’t worry about me. He’ll be back on Tuesday and in the meantime I have plenty to do with my girls. We’re all going out to the salon tomorrow. Erik works on Mondays.”

She dove into a long story about the last time she had her hair done by Erik and Jason listened with a smile while he made himself a few grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner.

“Anyway, the poor boy said he was just so heartbroken. Can you believe his boyfriend just up and left like that? He’s so sweet and so good with my hair--“

“Hard to believe,” Jason agreed, with a mouth full of sandwich. He took his full plate back out to the living room and settled down on to his couch. Placing the plate of sandwiches on the coffee table in front of him, Jason pulled his throw down off the back of the sofa and wrapped it around his legs. 

The thought back to the other night, when Red had done the same thing, teasing him about the plaid colors in the blanket. Jason smiled to himself as he remembered the look on Red’s face while he teased Jason.

“Oh!! Jay! You should ask him out!” his mother exclaimed. “He’s very cute and you haven’t had a boyfriend in ages.”

“I have a feeling your hairdresser is not actually my type,” Jason said finishing off one of his sandwiches.

“You don’t know that. You never met him. What’s your ‘type’ anyway?”

Slender, pale, secret-artists who love baseball, crime fighting, beer and pizza, apparently.

“I don’t know, Ma. But just think what would happen if we broke up. He might do a bad job on your hair.”

His mother went silent for a moment as she thought about that and Jason couldn’t help but smile.

“Maybe you’re right,” she agreed. Clearly her hair was more important than Jason’s future prospects with this guy. Jason finished off the last of his sandwiches with the smile still on his face.

As his mom prattled on, Jason laid back on the sofa and dozed while he listened to her talk. At some point she must have realized he was nodding off and he heard her softly say, “Alright Jay, you get some sleep. I love you, baby.”

Jason murmured something like, “Love you, too,” back as he tucked his phone on the coffee table and fell fully to sleep.

****

A few days later, Jason was standing in line at another take out place daydreaming about being able to eat a decent meal, again. At some point, Jason mused, things would get close enough to normal again that he would be able to go grocery shopping. Maybe cook himself a nice big steak with some green beans and mashed potatoes...

Today was not that day, though. Today was take out again.

They were in week two of this stupid serial case and Jason was getting sincerely tired of trashy take out and having to order sandwiches with Clint. He snuck out around 3:30 that afternoon to hop a few train stops down so he could grab a semi-decent meal at a small shop that served Caribbean food.

He was in line behind a chatty old woman, talking away with the owner in Spanish, when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to find Red wearing a burgundy t-shirt, jeans and a beat up Knight’s cap.

“How do you always know where I am?”

“I always know where everyone is,” Red said, dismissively.

“It is a little creepy… You know that, right?”

“You like it,” Red said with casual certainty.

Jason actually kind of did…

“I’m sending you two pictures,” Red said, not looking up from him phone.

Jason’s phone buzzed with the messages and he pulled them up. One was a picture message of a crowd scene in a cramped hallway with one face circled in red. The other picture was of an invite to an art show just off campus for Hudson University.

“Is this the guy?” Jason asked, pulling up the picture and zooming.

“It is,” Red confirmed. “Creepy, right?”

He looked almost normal to Jason, but then he had not tried to strangle Red, chop up his body and put it in a steel drum.

“Where do you find this?”

“Insta.”

“You found a serial killer on Instagram?”

“I imagine he is just one of many on that particular social media platform,” Red replied.

Jason was about to answer but the woman behind the counter beckoned him forward and asked him for his order.

Jason put in his and then stepped aside to let Red order. Red asked for a coffee and nothing else, before moving off to a table in a far corner of the restaurant.

Jason slid into the seat next to Red.

“When is this art show?” he asked. “Do you think his guy will be there.”

“Art show is tonight. An art show mostly featuring college students seems like prime hunting ground. Everyone is, young, naive, super interested in free drinks…”

“Are you going?

 

“Nope. You and Montoya should go. I’m worried if he spots me again, he’ll get spooked.”

The waitress brought Jason’s food and Red’s coffee. Red smiled his thanks to her and took a sip before looking back at Jason.

“I’m running the image through facial recognition software, but the only picture I have caught him at an angle. It could take a while to get a name.”

“Ok, so in the meantime…”

“In the meantime, you go to this art show in a pair of jeans and a baggy hoodie. Make sure Montoya isn’t glued to your hip.”

“Baggy hoodie?”

“If you look too muscular, he won’t approach you. He’ll be intimidated and worry about overpowering you. You need to seem vulnerable. Maybe wear a rainbow or something.”

“Wouldn’t Montoya--”

“Nope.”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“I didn’t need to. The guy isn’t into ladies. Say what you will about Montoya. She is decidedly female.”

Jason couldn’t argue with that. 

Red stood and downed the rest of his coffee. 

“Go.” Red instructed. “Have a glass of wine. Pretend you give a shit about art. Ask about a gallery rep. Show the dude’s picture around a little. Be subtle. Be casual. Pretend to like the rest of the art. Don’t let Montoya scare the other lesbians. Be cool.”

Jason gave Red a dirty look.

“I know how to do the undercover thing, man. And I am always cool.”

Red looked at Jason with a cautionary expression on his face.

“If he approaches you, call me. We know he uses ruses to get his vics alone, but we don’t know what else he does after that. Be careful.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jason protested.

Red cut him off, “He if approaches you, call me. Immediately. If you do not. I will know. And I will be pissed. And you do not want me to be pissed.”

He waved a finger at Jason for a moment, then turned around and left.

*****

“Jesus, I’m flashing back to my first college girlfriend,” Montoya said, as they walked through the front door of a run down brownstone just off the campus of Hudson University.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I absolutely do not.”

“She was artsy?”

Montoya smiled to herself in a way that made Jason think that maybe her college girlfriend hadn’t been as bad as Montoya was letting on.

“You could say that,” Montoya agreed.

Jason laughed as they made their way through the small, narrow hallways of the home. Jason and Montoya eyed the artists, looking to see if they could spot a few of them who seemed like likely targets for their perp. 

Narrowing in on a thin guy around the age 20 with dyed black hair and band T-shirt, Jason nodded to Montoya to hang back. The guy was standing nervously in front of a series of 6 paintings. The paintings were objectively awful, in Jason’s opinion. They were just blocks of mismatched colors with images of rats and snakes and aggressive birds smeared over top of them.

“Hey,” Jason said, approaching the man with a smile. “Are these yours?”

The guy nodded and introduced himself. He said his name was Mike and he started to explain his medium and inspiration. Clearly he had rehearsed this, so Jason let him do his whole bit. Jason nodded and smiled as the guy spoke, pretending to be interested. 

“These are really cool,” Jason said as the guy wound down. “Have any of the gallery reps approached you? I was at a show like this a few weeks ago and this gallery rep was talking with me but I forgot to get his card like a total idiot. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it until he left!”

“Oh really? Man, that’s the first thing you gotta ask for,” Mike said. “Do you remember which gallery he was from?”

Jason gave the man the gallery name Red had told him their perp had been using and then pulled out his phone to show the Mike the picture Red had found.

Mike shook his head when Jason asked if he knew the guy.

“Sorry, man. I don’t recognize him. Good luck, though.”

Jason thanked Mike and moved on.

Montoya sidled back up to him.

“No dice?” She asked.

“No dice,” he confirmed. 

“Do you think Red Robin paints pictures of smeared rats?” She asked, looking back at Mike’s paintings.

“Smeared bats, maybe?” Jason joked.

Montoya laughed as they moved on to different, even more narrow hallway. 

“Let’s try another one.”

They made their way through the house, showing the picture and talking to artists, striking out each time.

Jason phone buzzed just as he and Montoya were approaching the last large room. He glanced down to see a text from Red.

*I think I found him. I have a name. We just need to confirm. Call me.*

*Give me two minutes to find a quiet spot. Don’t want to scare anyone.*

Jason waved to Montoya, indicating he was going out for a minute before he made his way to the door and out into the chilly night. 

Pulling out his phone, Jason looked for a quiet, private spot to talk. He found a area in the alley behind the house and was about to dial Red’s number when he heard someone come up behind him. He didn’t turn around, expecting it would be Montoya following him outside.

“Hey, I hear you’re looking for a galley rep. I’m Steven.”

Jason realized then it wasn’t Montoya and turned fully to face the man walking up beside him. 

It was him.

He had the same long, stringy hair, wide set eyes, and husky frame. He was smiling at Jason in an easy, relaxed way and was holding out his arm for a handshake as he approached.

A thrill shot through Jason but he worked to keep his face even and pleasant. It was hard to imagine this guy as a killer or even imagine he had tried to get rough with Red. He looked doughy and normal, not threatening or intimidating at all. If Jason had not known what he knew, he never would have pegged this man as a threat.

But then, Jason guessed this was how he lulled his victims into a false sense of security, this was how he got them alone, this was how made them vulnerable enough to strike.

This was a man who was very easy to underestimate. 

Jason put his phone back in his pocket and smiled back at him pleasantly.

“Yeah, I am. I’m not exhibiting here, but I’ve done a few of these shows in the past and got great feedback, even made a few sales.”

“That’s great. Sometimes places like this can be a bust. Too many people, too big a crowd, too dim lighting. It’s hard to stand out when people can barely see your work.” Steve said, pulling out a hip flask and taking a swig.

He held it out to Jason with a wider smile.

“The crowds always get to me. I’m guessing you’re feeling the same way since you’re out here, taking a breather?”

Jason smiled back and reached for the flask, hoping to keep the man talking. If he could just keep him calm and interested, he could make up an excuse to call Montoya and get a team in to catch this guy without anyone getting hurt.

“Pretty much, yeah. All those people, man,” Jason agreed with a shake of his head. He put the flask up to his lips. It smelled like cheap apple flavored whiskey. 

College kid garbage. 

He took just enough into his mouth to make his breath smell like the booze, then pretended to drink a full swallow. He handed the flask back to Steve.

“That is awful,” Jason joked, faking a cough and pulling a face. 

Steve laughed easily and pocketed the flask.

“I’m all out of the good stuff, wanna go grab something decent? There’s a bar a few blocks away and we can talk about your art. Maybe see if we can’t get you into our gallery.”

“That sounds perfect,” Jason said and Steve walked him out of the alley and down the block. 

“Hey, I’m just gonna text my friend quick,” Jason said as they moved down toward the area near Hudson where all the bars were located. “Let her know I’m gonna grab a drink and she’ll need to find a ride home.”

“Sure, sure,” Steve said agreeably as they came to a stop near a large white panel van, obviously used to transport some of the larger art pieces to the row house.

Jason was fishing his phone out of his jacket pocket when he felt something sharp in his thigh, he spun to look down and then felt a huge jolt shoot through his entire body. Every muscle he had went painfully tense, Jason felt himself falling but couldn’t move his arms to catch himself. Steven’s face was dark blur above him as Jason tried and failed to shout for Montoya. 

And then everything went black.


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jay's in a tight spot. Luckily for him, he has backup that's always watching. Also there's dogs.
> 
> Khachalala did some BEAUTIFUL fan art for this chapter! Please check it out and tell her how lovely it is and how adorable Herc looks!! Link below!
> 
> https://khachalala.tumblr.com/post/181895388122/fanart-for-hard-to-say-by-bewaretheboojum-this

Jason woke up to the feeling of someone sliding their hands into his jeans pocket. He tried to squirm away but his wrists and ankles were tied together with something thin but study. His limbs felt heavy and wooden, almost immovable. Jason was on his back on a cold concrete floor, his arms were twisted painfully behind him. He tried to rock back from the hands pulling at his pockets, but he couldn’t quite manage to get away.

“Knock it the fuck off,” a voice came from up behind Jason’s head. He rolled his eyes back to try and get a glimpse of the guy, but the lights shining above him made the man more of a shadow than anything else.

“What the fuck, man?” Jason slurred, trying to take everything in.

His brain wasn’t working quite right. Slow and muzzy, it took Jason a few minutes to remember what had happened on the street outside the brownstone...

Mother fuck.

Things came slowly back together for Jason and none of this was good. He moved his head tentatively from side to side, trying to make out his surroundings and if he could see a door, or a window, or his cell phone, or another human being who could rescue him.

He was in another warehouse. A different one from the one that they had raided. 

This warehouse was much dirtier than Steven’s last hidey hole and even more sparse, if that was possible. No folding chair, no table, no cleaning supplies. Just a big empty warehouse with Jason, a serial killer, and a few drums of what were probably other people’s body parts.

Not great.

“I knew you were a fucking cop,” Steven spat angrily as he flipped open Jason’s wallet and found his business cards. “I saw you outside my last spot. Jesus Christ, can’t you assholes just leave me alone?”

“Leave you alone?” Jason asked stupidly.

The serial killer just wanted to be left alone. Presumably to serial kill some more. 

And he was mad that cops were harassing him. 

About the serial killing…

What the fuck?

“Listen these guys, they’re useless. Their art is terrible, they’re mostly gay, they’re all broke. They aren’t contributing anything to society…”

Not like this super productive serial killer, Jason thought to himself.

“You killed them because they’re useless?” Jason asked, in a quiet tone of voice he hoped was not judgemental.

“Well, I mean, not just because of that,” Steven said, tossing Jason’s wallet to the side.

Ok, at least he got a confession out of the guy. Jason hoped he lived long enough to testify about it on the stand at this guy’s trial…

“I’m not useless,” Jason ventured. “I don’t even like art.”

“You’re a cop and you keep hassling me. You’re the reason I needed to move my spot, you’re the reason I’m going to need to find a new way to catch these guys. You’re a pain in my ass,” Steven spat. “That’s worse than being useless.”

“Listen man, I’m not the only cop looking for you. And you kidnapping me? That just means there’s gonna be more cops on your ass.”

“Pbbft, whatever. There are other cities,” Steven said dismissively, walking over to a beat up duffle bag he had off to one side.

So Red’s hypothesis that this asshole went undetected for so long because he moved around was sounding more and more right by the minute. It would have been more satisfying to confirm their suspicions if Jason wasn’t clearly moments away from being strangled and dumped in a big bucket.

Steven dug through his ominously large duffle bag until he came up with small camera. Steven pulled it out and placed it neatly on the ground between him and Jason.

Jason swallowed hard at the sight of it, wondering for how many men that camera was the last thing they ever saw.

Steven dug back down into his duffled and Jason expected him to come back up with a cord or a wire or something, but he didn’t.

He came up with a gun. 

Steven stood up and started back over to Jason. 

A gun was not this guy’s MO… Jason had hoped that the man’s killing ritual would buy him some time to escape. Choking a guy to death took time, but a gun? That didn’t take any time at all.

Jason started to tug at his bonds when a voice made him and Steven stop short.

“You don’t want to use that gun, do you Steven?”

It was Red. Jason felt relief and fear pour over him in equal measures.

Steven made an almost choked sound and whirled around to face Red, who was just stepping out of the shadows of the warehouse.

“A gun is too messy. Too much blood splattering everywhere,” Red started in again, moving slower close and closer. His voice was soft, almost lyrically hypnotic. “You’re too far away, too. You can’t feel him die with that gun. You know it’s not what you want.”

“S-stop,” Steven stuttered, pointing his gun at Red.

Red didn’t seem phased by the gun pointed at his chest. He was moving incrementally closer as he spoke keeping his voice in a low gentle tone. Slowly but surely closing in on the man with the gun.

Jason wasn’t quite at the angle to see Red’s face or his body language. He tried to squirm out of his bonds but he didn’t want to move too much and attract Steven’s attention or startle him enough to pull the trigger.

“Maybe you should just put the gun away?” Red suggested. “You put the gun away, I drop my tool belt and we can see just how good you are with that cord you have in your bag. You can show me. You’ve had a lot of practice. You can show me exactly what you did to those other men.”

Steven was just about panting now, Jason could see sweat gleam across his forehead, even in the cold, darkened room.

“Is that what you want? Do you want to show me what you did?” Red asked.

“No,” Steven whispered. “No,” he said again, this time almost shouting in a way that that startled Jason. 

Shaking his head back and forth, Steven’s hands were unsteady on gun. Red took advantage of the outburst, of the man’s obvious discomfort and confusion.

Pulling a batarang out of his belt faster than Jason could see, Red threw it at Steven, hitting the gun. The gun flew from his hands and before Steven could react and another batarang came at him, hitting him mid-thigh. 

There was a flash of light and a buzz and Steven went down hard, twitching and panting out an inarticulate cry.

Red ran towards the gun and kicked off into the shadows of the warehouse before heading towards Steven and binding his hands together behind his back. When Red was satisfied the unconscious man was not going anywhere any time soon, Red turned back to Jason.

“Are you ok?” he asked, in his normal voice, sounding worried. 

Red ran his hands behind Jason’s back and pulled him upright into a sitting position before using a short, sharp blade to cut Jason’s hands free. Red ran his nimble fingers down Jason’s thighs and legs, came to the zip strip binding them together and performed the same maneuver.

“Suddenly, I’m very glad you’re still stalking me,” Jason said, rubbing his arms to try and return the feeling to his hands.

Red looked up and smiled at him. It was the most beautiful smile Jason had ever seen.

“Me too,” he said and then reached for Jason’s cell phone. “You better call it in. The more backup we have with this guy the better.”

“Yeah and I’m guessing Montoya is probably pretty pissed at me right now.”

“Everyone’s on high alert. They’re all looking for you,” Red said. 

“Yeah, but you were the one who found me.”

“I did.” Red said, smiling again. “I’m good at that, remember.”

Jason called Montoya, then dispatch. Red had to give him the location where they were so he could pass it along.

“When the cavalry gets here, I’m going to make myself scarce,” Red said. “You’ll have his prints now, to match to the warehouse. Some DNA too, when you swab him. The algorithm popped out a few more potential vics, I’ll send the files your way tonight so you can use them in the interrogation.”

Jason nodded his thanks and willed his hands and feet to stop tingling uncomfortably.

Montoya was the first to get there. Jason had just finished rubbing the feeling back into his legs and was testing out how standing was going to go for him when she called to him.

“We’re in here,” Red called back. “The perp is contained.”

Montoya came in through the side warehouse door and took in the place. 

“He found another one,” she said, looking around, gesturing at the warehouse.

“I would venture to guess that he found several warehouses that meet his purposes. That would be one of the questions I’d ask him when you got him back to the station,” Red said.

“What happened to him?” Montoya asked, nodded down at Steven.

“I tased him,” Red said simply. “I can hear the ambulance, so I’m going to head out. Let me know what hospital they put him in,” Red said to Montoya, nodding at Jason.

“I don’t need to go to the hospital,” Jason protested.

Red gave him a skeptical look, but otherwise totally ignored him, turning back to Montoya.

“Be careful and keep me posted,” he said.

And then he was gone.

Jason turned back to Montoya, trying not to sway on his feet as he moved. 

“I’m not going to the hospital,” Jason said to Montoya with finality in his voice.

****

Jason woke up in the hospital a few hours later. He had been rushed to Gotham General right after he had fainted on Montoya at the crime scene. Roughly thirty seconds after Red had left. He tried to protest in the ambulance ride over, but none of the EMTs wanted to hear it.

Jason’s mother was slumped in the chair next to his bed. Her hair had gotten squashed to one side when she slouched over in sleep and her eye makeup was smudged.

She looked like she had been crying.

“Hey, Ma.” Jason called to her softly, and reached out a hand to tap her knee.

His mother started awake.

“Oh!!! Jay-baby. Sweetie, are you ok? How are you feeling? They said you fainted at the crime scene after that monster attacked you and--”

“I’m ok, Ma,” Jason said, cutting her off. “I’m feeling much better now.”

There were tears in her eyes again as she leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. He squeezed her hand and smiled up at her. 

“I’m just so glad you’re ok. I spoke with your friend, he said he thought you would be ok. That you just needed time to recover from the taser and hitting your head when you fell, but I was still so scared.”

“My friend?” Jason asked. “You mean Montoya? She’s my boss, mom. Not my friend.”

“No, no, no, the man. He said his name was Red. That you two were friends. He was so nice. He brought me tea and sat with me while the doctor told us how you were doing.”

“Red was here?” Jason asked, feeling a little stunned. He found himself sitting up to look around for the other man.

“Yes, he’s such a sweet boy. And handsome. You should forget this ‘friends’ thing and ask him out.”

Jason laughed softly and shook his head.

“I agree with you there. I have asked him out a few times and he keeps turning me down.”

Jason’s mother smiled at him mischievously.

“He seemed very worried when he was here. Ask him out again tonight. Maybe you’ll get a pity date.”

“Oooooh a pity date. That’s the dream,” Jason joked.

“A pity date is still a date. All he has to do is see your charming self in action, sweetheart. He’ll fall in love with you, for sure,” his mother said with a smile.

Jason thought about that for a minute. He had been so consumed with the perpetual immediacy of their relationship that he never stopped to consider where it was going or what their future would be. He never knew when he would hear from Red from day to day, so Jason tried hard not to stop and think about how he really felt about Red. He didn’t want to examine his feelings because he was worried what he would find out. 

The idea of Red falling in love with him had never really even occurred to Jason. He knew Red liked him, he knew he turned Red on, he knew Red laughed at his jokes, and stalked him. 

For Jason, that was probably enough.

Montoya stopped by to check in on him on her way home. She looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes and her ponytail askew. Steven had been discharged from the hospital already and was in his very own jail cell at Gotham Central. They were waiting on some behavioral experts from DC before starting in on the interrogation and she wanted to get some shut eye before they got there. They found the white panel van he had been using to transport his victims, Jason included, to his warehouses.

The doctor came in a few minutes after Montoya left and discharged Jason as well, with the advice that he get some rest and follow up if he felt any residual dizziness. Jason agreed and limped off to the bathroom to struggle back into his street clothes. His arms and legs still felt heavy and cumbersome.

Jason’s mother drove him home, fussing over him the whole time. She insisted on stopping to get him soup and a sandwich on the way. As if soup did as much for recovering from a taser and a blow to the head as it did for the common cold. It took him the whole drive to convince his mother that he was fine to stay at alone at his place and that he didn’t really need to come sleep on her couch for a few days. She didn’t seem to understand why his own bed was preferable to her short and lumpy sofa. 

She was still looking at him skeptically when she pulled up in front of his building. He gave her a quick kiss goodbye on the cheek and promised to call her in the morning. She nodded in acceptance, but Jason suspected she would be calling him in another hour or so, just to check up on him.

Jason was smiling to himself about how overprotective she still was when he unlocked the door to his apartment. He tossed his keys in the bowl on the table by his door and kicked off his boots. He was about to fish his phone out of his pocket to see if Red had called when he heard Red’s voice in the depths of his living room.

“I would have thought they would have discharged you sooner. How hard did you hit your head when you fell?” Red asked.

Jason looked up, startled to find Red, once again sitting on the sofa in his living room, curled up in his plaid throw blanket. This time, he wasn’t alone though. A dog was curled up on the sofa with him, taking up more room than Red ever could. He was looking at Jason curiously with big brown eyes.

“Is this Herc?” Jason asked, walking over to the sofa and offering the dog his hand to sniff.

“It is,” Red said petting Herc between the ears while Herc sniffed Jason’s hand. “You can pet him. He doesn’t bite.”

Jason reached out and rubbed Herc’s ears. The dog made a high pitched, happy sound and Red smiled at him.

“You’re shameless, Herc,” Red said, fondly, also petting him on the side. 

Jason wedged himself on the sofa between Herc and Red and leaned back, tilting his head to look at the ceiling. Herc took that opportunity to put his head in Jason’s lap and whimper at them both until they pet him. Jason let out a long sigh resting a hand on Herc’s velvety head.

“It’s been a long day,” Jason said in what was almost a groan. 

Red breathed out a soft laugh in agreement. 

“I don’t think I’ve slept in almost 48 hours. So yeah, very long day,” Red said. “I think my adrenaline was pumping at full force for at least 12 of those hours…”

“How did you know he got me?” Jason asked, softly, pointedly not looking at Red.

“When you didn’t call me immediately after your text, I knew something went wrong.”

“How did you find me?”

Red looked at Jason for a long moment before shaking his head with a slight smile.

“That would be telling.”

“You are actually stalking me, aren’t you? Like, you’ve got me bugged, somehow?”

Red shrugged, and rolled his eyes mysteriously.

“Don’t you trust me to take care of myself?” Jason asked. “I mean, yeah I don’t work with Batman. But I am a cop.”

Red turned and looked at him in surprise.

“It’s not about trust,” Red said. “In my family, keeping a close eye on each other is how we show—“

Red broke off, cheeks flushed and finished with a hand gesture that Jason chose to interpret as as some strong affectionate emotion.

“Really?” Jason asked, a warm feeling spreading through his stomach.

“Sure,” Red said. “I always assume someone is keeping an eye on me.”

“So you’re saying you care about me?” Jason asked, trying to sound smooth and charming, like his mother had advised. 

“You know,” Red said, making as if he was about to stand. “It’s getting late. I think Herc and I need to get home…”

Jason looked pointedly down at Herc who had quickly fallen asleep in his lap.

“I don’t think Herc wants to leave… I think Herc is pretty well settled in.”

“Traitor,” Red said to his dog in a fond tone of voice as he reached over to rub at Herc’s ears.

“Nah, he just knows that this is where he belongs, right now,” Jason said softly. 

Red looked up at him with serious blue eyes.

“Smart dog,” he said.

“Mmmmm,” Jason hummed his agreement before cupping a hand around the back of Red’s head and pulling him in for a kiss.

Red was tentative as he returned Jason’s kiss. His mouth was soft and warm, it moved agonizingly slowly over Jason’s.

“Detective,” he breathed against Jason’s mouth, as if he wasn’t sure what he should say next.

“Come on, I told you, call me Jay,” Jason coaxed, nipping at Red’s lower lip.

“Jay,” Red said, as if still testing the way Jason’s name felt to him. 

“Yeah, I like that,” Jason said, nudging Herc off his lap and pulling Red in close. “Say it again.”

“Jay,” Red whispered nuzzling the corner of Jason’s mouth before going in for another kiss.

Dimly, Jason heard Herc jump down from his couch and jingle off to the direction of his kitchen. Jason only had a split second to wonder where Herc was going before Red pressed another kissed against the corner of his mouth.

This time, the kiss was deeper, wet, full off all the words neither of them could quite articulate.

Red’s mouth softened against Jason’s, moving forward and Red wrapped an arm around Jason’s neck. Jason couldn’t help but breathe out a sigh as Red pressed closer. 

Moving faster than Jason’s still muzzy brain could follow, Red threw a leg over Jason’s thigh and slid with graceful ease into his lap. Red melted into Jason’s arms, humming into Jay’s mouth as he deepened the kiss. The slick warmth, the subtle vibrations against his lips made Jason’s head swim and his cock throb with sudden heat. 

Jason’s hands almost unconsciously slipped down Red’s back to cup Red’s ass through a pair of threadbare jeans. Red made a low approving growl in the back of his throat as he rolled his hips forward, pressing himself against Jason. 

“Ohhhhh, yes. Do that again. Do that forever,” Jason hissed, gripping Red’s hips and urging him on.

Red panted out a gasp and dropped his head to Jason’s shoulder. Pressing hot, wet kisses along the curve of Jason’s neck, Red rocked rhythmically against him. 

“Red, baby, you feel so good,” Jason groaned, moving in tandem with with the motion of Red’s hips.

Red pulled back abruptly, looking at Jason with hazy, confused eyes.

“‘Red’?” He said, as if almost confused. “No, don’t— it’s not. Not ‘Red’. Not…”

He shook his head as he leaned back away from Jason.

“Not ‘Red,’” he repeated.

“Ok,” Jason agreed, running what he hoped was a soothing hand up and down Red’s now taunt spine. 

“Just— Tim. Call me Tim,” he said, swallowing hard and not meeting Jason’s eyes.

Jason gripped his chin with one hand and turned his face so they were eye to eye.

“Tim,” Jay said, almost in a whisper. The name was perfect for Red, actually. Simple, utilitarian, just like him. Jason loved it. He wanted to say it forever.

“Tim,” Jason repeated again. “I like it. Not as good a name as ‘Herc,’” he teased, “But I like it.”

Tim breathed out a laugh and pushed Jason down on the couch under him. Tim, pressing Jason into the sofa, flicked open the fly of Jason’s jeans with nimble fingers. Before Jason could even think of something to say, a cool calloused hand was wrapped around his erection. 

“Oh, fuck,” Jay groaned, as he head lolled back against the arm of his sofa. 

Tim’s grip firmed and he moved into a quick, easy rhythm that made Jason’s toes curl and his breathing come in fast uneven pants. 

“Wait, wait,” Jason pleaded, grabbing blindly at Tim’s hand. “I want, I want…”

“I know what you want,” Tim breathed out and pressed the thick, heavy heat of his own erection against Jason’s.

Jason let out a wordless groan as his hand came up instinctively to wrap around Tim’s. Their erections pressed together, the warm tunnel of their hands tight around the slick heat of their cocks as they rocked together. 

White hot pluses shot through Jason’s body as they moved together, rocking, panting, moaning. Jason came first, his breath suddenly gone as he tensed under Tim and shot into both of their hands.

Tim let out a low, desperate sound as he looked down at Jason with intense blue eyes. 

“Come on, Tim,” Jason coaxed him. “Come for me.” 

Slicking Tim’s dick with his come, Jason moved his hand over Tim’s erection with quick, steady strokes until… 

Tim tossed his head back, muscles tensed and body arched as he came on Jason’s stomach. Breathing hard he slumped back down on top of Jason, moaning lowly in the back of his throat.

“Jesus, fuck.” Jason said said, cupping the back of Tim’s head.

“Yeah,” Tim agreed pressing his head back against Jason’s hand. 

They stumbled into Jason’s bedroom sometime later, after using Jason’s discarded shirt to clean off. Herc followed after them, curling up at Tim’s feet at the base of Jason’s bed. Jay fell asleep that night to the sound of Herc’s snores and to the feel of Tim’s cool, calloused fingers resting on his shoulder.

****

The smell of coffee, eggs and bacon cooking woke Jason the next morning. He sat up, looking around for Tim and Herc.

Stumbling out of bed and into his tiny kitchen, Jason found Tim in his t-shirt and boxers standing over Jason’s stove making breakfast. Herc was off in a corner happily eating kibble from a cloth bowl that was tucked into the corner of Jason’s kitchen. 

“You cook, too?” Jason asked, coming up behind Tim and wrapping his arms around him.

Jason pressed his face into the back of Tim’s neck and kissed him just below his hairline. Tim shivered and reached back with one hand to tilt Jason’s head towards him before turning half around to kiss Jason.

Jason hummed into the kiss and slid his hand under the front of Tim’s shirt, running his fingers over the warm, taunt stomach. 

Jason was startled when a warm furry head nudged both their thighs. Jason and Tim looked down to see that Herc had walked over to nudge himself between the two of them. Tim reached down absently to pet Herc’s head before flipping over an omelette in the pan on the stove.

“I’m the whole package,” Tim bragged, a little breathlessly. “Just ask Herc.”

“Given how spoiled this dog is, I have no doubt,” Jason said, eyeing Herc with amusement. 

Tim smiled, reaching over for his coffee mug. Taking a sip he looked up at Jason.

“Maybe you should call Montoya. See what our new friend has to say.”

Jason sighed. Tim was right. He should call Montoya. He didn’t want to call Montoya. He wanted to turn off the stove and pull Tim back into the bedroom, but…

It took Jason a minute to find his phone. It wasn’t until Tim suggested he go fishing in the couch cushions that Jason remembered he hadn’t taken it back into the bedroom with him the night before. 

Jason had been distracted last night. He had much more important things to worry about than charging his phone. Like Tim. And Tim’s hands. And Tim’s butt...

Jason’s smugness wore off quickly when he found his phone. The thing barely had a charge, but Jason plugged it into the wall before dialing Montoya’s number.

“What’s the word?” he asked when the line connected.

“He confessed to the feds last night,” Montoya said. “So there’s that. They said he’s more than a little crazy.”

“Yeah, good info. I think I picked up on that myself when he was standing over me last night with a gun in his hand,” Jason agreed wryly.

“Yeah, how you doing by the way?” Montoya asked. “Headache? Dizzy, still?”

Jason looked across the room to see Tim standing in front of the stove, absently petting Herc while he finished making breakfast.

“I’m doing pretty ok, actually. I’ll probably be in later today to get the scoop on what he said.”

“I’m guessing your friend will probably want all the details,” Montoya agreed slyly.

“He was asking me about it this morning,” Jason said with a sudden frown. “I think he’s just interested in how long this guy will be put away for. The man was hunting him, after all.”

“Both you, actually.” Montoya said.

“Not me until we started working the case. He picked Red out of crowd.”

Jason got what few details the feds has shared with the GCPD out of Montoya, then headed back to the kitchen. Tim was reminding Herc to finish his water as he plated two omelettes. 

“Good news?” he asked, looking up at Jason.

“They got a confession. I’m hoping they get names and locations of any other bodies we didn’t find too, but who knows with this crazy asshole.”

Tim nodded and sat down at the bar in Jason’s small kitchen. 

“I’m thinking he operated in at least two more cities before Gotham,” Tim said. “There will be more to find.”

Jason sat down next to Tim and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

“We caught him, though. Now he can’t make more. We did good work.”

Tim nodded slowly, picking at his omelette with his fork.

“We did catch him. But the next time we go after a serial killer, try not to get kidnapped and almost murdered, ok?”

“I swear that that will do my best not to be kidnapped by a serial killer ever again,” Jason promised, leaning over to give Tim a quick kiss on the cheek.

“There is one question I still have,” Jason said, running his fingers through the hair at the nape of Tim’s neck. “It’s been bothering me for a while now.”

“Hmmm?” Tim made an interrogative noise.

“What kind of art do you do? Pastelles? Paper cutting? Montoya said she thought it was decoupage.”

Tim looked up at him and smiled.

“Paper cutting is your guess? Come on, Detective. You can do better than that.”

“You’re a hard guy to pin down.”

Still smiling, Tim scooped up a bite of omelette.

“Photography. I do photography.”

Jason laughed, leaning over to kiss Tim on the cheek as he did.

“I should have guessed given your stalking obsession. What do you take pictures of? Are they sexy pictures?” He asked, letting his voice drop a few octaves on the last two words.

“Not yet,” Tim said with a smile. “I haven’t found anything suitably inspiring for that… Yet.”

Jason smiled down at him slyly.

“I like you, you know that?”

“You had given me some clues to that effect last night…”

“We do make a great team, though,” Jason insisted, taking a bite of his omelette. “So what’s next? Arrest some mobsters? Thwart some Supervillians? Blast the Joker out into outer space?”

“Hmmm, that last one sounds very appealing,” Tim said, finally taking a bite of his food. “What’s your tolerance for laughing gas?”

“Not sure, let’s maybe try real hard not to find out, though,” Jason said. 

“Deal,” Tim agreed. “It’s not great.”

“What do you think Batman will say when the two us start putting him out of business?” Jason teased. “Think he’ll retire?”

“That seems unlikely. I imagine the minute he finds out we’re sleeping together he’ll have you arrested for something,” Tim said casually.

Jason stiffened.

“How much of that was a joke?” 

“Hard to say?”

“How long do I have before he finds out we are sleeping together?”

“I’m guessing he already knows.”

“You live a scary life, man,” Jason teased, finishing up his omelette.

Tim turned to smile at him. 

“Yeah, but it has its moments,” Tim said and leaned in for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's over!!! I hope you all enjoyed it! It was a lot of fun to write. I'll probably do a few more one shots in this universe. 
> 
> I'm super excited to start sharing my next story. I'm almost done drafting it. It's another AU where Tim trained with Midnighter & Stormwatch instead of Batman and Jason survived the Joker Incident. Granted, there are fewer dogs, but there are more sentient space ships. Stay tuned!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just sort of getting back into the swing of writing after taking a long break. Please PM me if you spot any typos or see anything that needs to be fixed. I appreciate all the help I can get. :)


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